Stars On Our Shoulders
by CelticWolfman
Summary: The Second Term is upon us and new responsibilities will fall in the laps of the JAG gang as parenthood, politics and profession collide.
1. Playing Catch Up

_Previously on JAG (we have five years to cover, forgive us for the brevity)_

_January 23rd, 2003_

"Will you marry me?" Harm was on bended knee in the middle of the JAG bullpen as onlookers and a very amused Admiral AJ Chegwidden looked on. Harm and Mac had been dating for a few months and in some way everyone has seen this coming. Now they all looked on as Mac's eyes welled up with tears and she raised hand to her mouth to hide her quivering lip.

"Oh Harm," she sighed, "yes, I'll marry you." She threw her arms around him and the crowd in the bullpen broke out into applause and whistles and Admiral Chegwidden walked over to commend the younger officer that he used to look upon as a protégé of sorts.

"Well, son, it took you some time but damn it, you finally got it right." The Admiral clapped Harm on the shoulder and the two men hugged. "You do realize that Mac, Bev, Harriet and Nicole will constitute a war council of sorts for wedding planning?"

"I had bet on that, sir." Harm answered with a chuckle.

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_April 8th, 2003_

"Come on, Mrs. Rabb, just one more push." The head of obstetrics at Bethesda was on call the night that Mac came in. Harm, having been promoted as Staff Judge Advocate to the Secretary of Defence, a billet that had him promoted to Rear Admiral Lower Half, had him reluctantly over in Okinawa modifying the Status of Forces agreements while still ensuring a proper Naval and Marine presence. So, as whenever Harm went abroad in his new post while Mac was pregnant, the duty of checking in on her was shared between Keeter, Sturgis and Bax. It was Keeter and Bax who were in between shifts and hence both at the Rabb house when Mac went into labour.

"Yeah, Mac, come on push!" Bax encouraged and Mac crushed his hand in response.

"Don't try to give me orders, Admiral!" Mac had her other hand on Bax's tie as she pulled him down and growled into his face.

"Keeter, get Harm on the damn phone!" Bax ordered as he struggled to get his tie loose from Mac's grasp. Keeter ran off down the hallway toward the administration desk and Bax continued down the hall with the gurney toward the maternity ward.

"Admiral Baxter, sir, we only have one room available and it's only a semi-private room. Will that be okay?" The Commander asked the two star who had his eyes popping out of his head due to the Marine that was crushing his hand.

"Mac?" Bax groaned through his teeth.

"Anything!" She screamed as they went down the hallway.

"Looks like we're going to have to forego the maternity ward entirely and go right to the delivery room. She's already at ten centimetres dilation." The gurney changed paths and took Mac to the delivery room. Keeter was, by now, chasing the gurney toward the delivery room and toward the delivery of his best friend's first child. He had Harm on the cell phone.

"Sorry, sir, you can't take that in there." The nurse stopped Captain Keeter at the door. Keeter was still only a Captain but he liked it that way. Sturgis was also still only a Captain but with Mac's move to the judiciary as Chief Naval Justice upon Admiral Morris' retirement and her subsequent promotion to Brigadier General, Sturgis was made the Chief of Staff at JAG.

Keeter somehow managed to patch the cellular phone into the intercom in the delivery room so Harm could coach Mac through the delivery process. That late night, Sarah Ashley Rabb, or Sasha to her family, was born to Sarah and Harmon Rabb.

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_December 15th, 2006_

"So, what's your official title _this week_?" Mac goaded as the two of them walked down the halls at JAG, with the '06 midterm elections having passed and the Democrats controlling the Congress while Republican President Andrew Russell still trudged on through his second term.

"As far as the Secretary of the Navy tells me, I'm currently the Fleet Judge Advocate for the Atlantic fleet, although, like all the other billets I've held over the last year, that seems subject to change." The two of them walked into Mac's courtroom.

"Now, just what would the Fleet Judge Advocate be doing in _my_ courtroom? Surely you can't be trying a case in front of your wife?" Mac teased him lightly as she played with the hair on his forearm.

"I'm not, I'm here as an observer. Two of my attorneys are arguing a case today in your court, General. A young Marine Captain against an even younger Navy Lieutenant, kids doing a job it seems like I was doing not too long ago." Harm chuckled.

"Feeling like an old man, Admiral Rabb?" Mac went up to her bench.

"Just seems like I do more commanding then litigating these days." Harm sighed.

"What if I told you that I had some news that would make you feel like a young Navy Lieutenant Commander who just met a Marine Major that he would fantasize about for years?" Mac crossed her legs and leaned over the bench.

"And just how do you intend on doing that, General?" Harm challenged as he walked up to the bench.

"How about if I told you that you were going to be a father again?" Mac rubbed her nose against her husband's.

"Really? Well don't I just feel like a young Navy stud, being able to knock up a hot little jarhead like you all over again." Harm chuckled as he quickly kissed Mac in the empty courtroom.

"Alright, now that I've done wonders for your already over-inflated Navy ego, would you take your seat, Admiral, my court is about to commence." Mac sent him back to his seat and went to her chambers.

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_November 29th, 2007_

"I have an announcement." Admiral Chegwidden called the attention of everyone in the bullpen. "Since I was a teenager, I've dedicated my entire life to the Navy. In that time, I've seen more things then I care to mention and I've had the privilege of serving with some of the bravest men and women that this nation has to offer, including all of you in this office. But, I'm getting on up there in age and I'm no fool, I know that I'm reaching the age where the Navy tends to ask old Sea-Dogs like me to turn it in. There's more to it then that though, I've got a wife and a young son both of whom, I think, are starting to forget what I look like." The Admiral's son, Arleigh (named after the Admiral's hero Admiral Arleigh '31-knot' Burke who had also been a close friend of the Admiral's wife's grandfather) had been around JAG quite a few times in his five short years. "I have decided to tender my resignation as the Judge Advocate General of the United States Department of the Navy, effective after my Dining out this Friday."

The Admiral received congratulations and handshakes from every one at JAG. He announced that Mac would be the Mistress of the Mess at his Dining Out and hence the presiding officer. Harm, Sturgis and Bud had been the first to congratulate the Admiral. Commander Bud Roberts, Captain Sturgis Turner and Rear Admiral Harmon Rabb would all be named for top positions in the JAG corps with the new shuffle that would occur in the wake of Admiral Chegwidden's retirement. "The end of an era." Sturgis commented.

"Chegwidden was an institution at JAG; I don't know how they'll find anyone to replace him." Harm added.

"It won't be the job of this administration, sir. I was talking to Admiral Baxter and he said that President Russell has been awaiting the Admiral's resignation for some time, he has no intention of nominating another JAG with the Presidential election coming so soon." Bud decided now was the time to be heard.

"Not a surprise that's how politics and top billets usually work." Sturgis commented.

"This coming from the Senator's husband." Harm joked.

"So, we won't find out who the new Navy JAG is until next January? Isn't that something, sir?" Bud asked.

"It's something, Commander, we just don't know what yet." Harm answered

_Previously on 'DC'_

_May 28th, 2002_

"Bethesda, is there some reason that we have to go to Bethesda?" Peach asked as they loaded her into the ambulance. "What's wrong with Mercy or George Washington?"

"Honey, you're the wife of the Secretary of State. It's pretty much tradition that the kids of cabinet members or Presidents are born at either Bethesda or Walter Reed and being as I'm a Marine, I'd never hear the end of it if my kids were born at Reed." Nate joked as he held her hand in the ambulance.

"Oh, like the fact that you and your dad were born at Bethesda has nothing to do with it." Peach rolled her eyes. "Just let's get there then!" Peach went into long hours of labour but on May 28th, Secretary of State Nathan Ross and his wife Nicole welcomed their triplets Timothy Byron, Jonathan Horatio and Bradley Frederick Ross into the world.

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_August 11th, 2003_

"You wanted to see me, Mr. President." Nate stuck his head in the door to the oval office; it was well after hours but this was the only time the President had available so Nate rushed in from the new house out in Morningside.

"Yes, Nathan, come on in." Andrew Russell motioned for his Secretary of State. Nate walked into the office and took a seat on the couch. "Nate, I called you here to give you some advice and I hope you take it in the spirit intended."

"I'll try." Nate chuckled nervously.

"Nate, you've got a young family, so did I when I started out in Washington, but the thing of it is, that Washington isn't the best place to raise a family, especially a young one. Nate, as your friend and as the godfather to one of your kids, I'm telling you that once this term ends, I think you should go somewhere far from Washington. I know you have political ambitions and whether you serve three years or seven, you'll still be a former Secretary of State and that carries a national profile. I think it would be best if you just powered down for a while, you've been going non stop since you were eighteen." Andrew Russell poured them each a scotch.

"What are you suggesting? That I just forget the last fourteen years I've spent in Washington?" Nate went on a slight defensive.

"Don't sound the horn yet, Marine. I'm not talking about demoting yourself, just a side-step. What's your hometown? Where did you grow up?" President Russell asked.

"Dad was deployed most of the time so we never really lived on base anywhere. I guess I grew up in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania." Nate answered.

"Why don't you go back to Pennsylvania and run for office? It's a good state, do that for a while and then decide when and if you want to come back to Washington. If you don't you can think of it this way, George Hunt is going to be running for President in '08 and if you were the Governor of Pennsylvania you'd control a state that he'd almost certainly have to win if he wanted to be President." President Russell laughed wisely.

"Thanks, Andy." Nate finished his drink and shook the President's hand before heading for the door.

"Nate," The President called after him, "how are the boys doing?"

"They can sleep through the night now, sir." Nate smiled amusedly before leaving the office.

_Later, at the House in Morningside –_

"Honey, what do you think of Harrisburg?" Nate asked as he climbed under the covers.

"I think it's the capital of Pennsylvania, why do you ask?" Peach looked over her reading glasses at him. "Thinking of cheaping out on the family vacation this year?"

"Thinking of running for Governor of Pennsylvania." Nate responded as he opened his book.

"Where did this come from?" Peach asked she picked her tea up off the coaster on the bedside table.

"Well the Pennsylvania Democrats left a message on my machine telling me that they wanted me to run against the Republican incumbent in 2004 but I hadn't given any thought to it." Nate squinted in the light. "And I was having a talk with Andrew Russell tonight and…"

"Oh, now the real reason comes out. Nate, of course Andrew Russell is going to send you off on some fool's errand to Pennsylvania, he's a Republican and Pennsylvania is still reeling from Reagan's trickle down economics, not to mention Three Mile Island. It could be a Republican way of tying an anchor around your neck." Peach warned.

"It's my home state; I have uncles that were put out of work when Bethlehem Steel went under and the President made a good point. Our family is young and it probably would do us some good to get away from Washington. Harrisburg is like halfway between my parents place outside Quantico and your mom in New York." Nate covered. "Nicole, my dad was never home, he was always out on deployments somewhere in the world. I couldn't hate him for it because being a Marine was all any man in my family ever thought about but I could get angry with him because he never saw me grow up. The only man that did, still lives in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania."

"Your Uncle Ben." Peach nodded finally comprehending. "Do what you think is best, you know I'll support you." She leaned against his shoulder.

"I know you will." He kissed the top of her head and lightly stroked her shoulder.

_November 5th, 2004_

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the great State of Pennsylvania, it is my pleasure to introduce your Governor-elect, Nathan Ross!" The announcer called as Nate made his way on to the stage. Nate kissed her on the cheek before heading up to the microphone.

"I've been a Democrat since I was fourteen. Not an easy thing to be when you're a Marine, not an easy thing to be when you're serving in a Republican administration but I will tell you one thing. I always felt at home in Pennsylvania. I grew up in Bethlehem with my brothers and sisters, the same Bethlehem that got crushed under the thumb of Republican trickle down economics. We watched as the people of nearby Allentown lost their jobs in record numbers and Ronald Reagan did nothing. We watched Three Mile Island happen while a Republican administration here in our very own beloved Pennsylvania stood by. Our proud Pennsylvania became the blue collar whipping boy for Republican economic experiments. Harry Truman once said that if you want to live like a Republican, you have to vote for a Democrat. But voting Democratic doesn't imply that you just want the best for yourself, but you also want the best for your fellow men. And by voting Democratic today, you showed the country that you wanted the best for your fellow Pennsylvanians!" A loud cheer erupted from the crowd as Nate paused.

"Now, our work begins. Now we band together and take our dream of a Democratic Pennsylvania to the nation not as an economic experiment but as an example of blue collar dreams, blue collar work ethic and blue collar equality. Now we take our rightful place at the vanguard of the nation, just as we did in 1776." Nate stepped away from the microphone and the cheering reached a near deafening level.

_November 17th, 2007_

"Here are the latest unemployment figures, sir." Lieutenant Governor John Dorscheim walked into Nate's office. "We're under three percent, sir." John smiled.

"That's excellent, John!" Nate got out from behind his desk and took the paper from his young Lieutenant Governor who had been an upstart young Democratic State Senator. "Do you realize we just posted the lowest unemployment figures since the end of World War Two?"

"Yes, sir, I had my secretary run the statistics before I came over. I also figured that you'd want this well publicized so I had her send it out to the major newswires in Philadelphia, Pittsburgh and even the New York Times and the Washington Post picked it up, sir." John took a seat in front of Nate's desk.

"Can I get you a drink, John? I'd say we've earned it based on these numbers." The two men opened a bottle of wine. "I can't thank you enough for pulling the long hours, I try to get out of here by six most nights but I end up working on the laptop from home with the boys throwing their Micro Machines at my head." Nate chuckled.

"Not a problem, sir." John tipped his glass to Nate. "Is it true what ZNN is saying? That these latest numbers are just the last reason in a long list of qualifications for your Presidential run or are you going to run for re-election here next year?"

"You're as bad as my wife, John. She asked me the same question last night." Nate chuckled as he sipped from his glass. He took his reverie down a notch and maintained a straight face. "We talked it over, I'm going to run for President."

"Let me be the first to congratulate you then." John reached out and shook Nate's hand. "I assume you want me to keep this under my hat until the official announcement?" John asked.

"If you wouldn't mind." Nate answered.

"There's just one more thing, Nate, with you vacating the big chair, I decided to take a run at it. I just wanted to know if I could count on your endorsement to seek the Democratic nomination for Governor." John tested his boss cautiously.

"You got it, John." Nate answered with a wise smile.

_November 29th 2007_

"So, tomorrow's the big announcement." Peach mused as the two of them lay in bed in the Governor's mansion in Harrisburg. Nate nodded as he slowly stroked her hair. "Are you nervous?"

"With you by my side I can face anything." Nate kissed her forehead. "Honey?" She moaned in acknowledging his question. "Am I a good father?"

"Despite the demands of your job, you still play with the boys at least three or four times during the week and you spend most of the weekend with them. They still call you 'the Colonel'." Peach laughed.

"Great, my kids are turning into Jarheads already." Nate joked. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Peach kissed his chest.

1456 ZULU, NOVEMBER 30th

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

"Why are we all being summoned into a meeting with the SECNAV being held here?" Harm asked as he looked to his right at Bax and then to his left at Sturgis and Bud.

"Because the mass of top Naval brass resigning right now is alarming, so they need to appoint some temporary fill-ins to help stop the Navy from haemorrhaging brass." Bax answered as they entered Admiral Chegwidden's old office.

"I don't understand why you're a three-star." Sturgis shook his head, the door shut behind them and the SECNAV stepped out from behind it.

"Because he has Special Ops experience and Surface Warfare experience as the Captain of an aircraft carrier in the Pacific." The SECNAV walked into the middle of the room. "The four of you should probably take a seat and listen to what I have to say." The four officers took a seat in varying places around the office as the SECNAV paced the floor holding court. "The Navy has been losing top officers at an alarming rate in the last few months. The President, knowing that an election is under year away has decided to stick with temporary fills. There are two Deputy Chiefs of Naval Operations, Admiral Baxter is nearing the end of his first term as a DCNO, Admiral Rabb, you will for the time being step into the shoes of Admiral Morton and serve as the other Deputy Chief of Naval Operations. That covers that. Now, as to the matter of the vacancy left by Admiral Chegwidden, Captain Turner, you'll be taking over that vacancy and Commander Roberts will be filling in for you. Are there any questions?"

"Just one, sir?" Bud piped up surprisingly.

"What is that, Commander?" The SECNAV demanded in no mood to mince words.

"Well, sir, I was just wondering why the President is so hesitant to announce the replacements for all these members of the Navy brass when the vacancies in Army and Air Force brass have been replaced almost instantly." Bud questioned, rather confused.

"This is just the standing order as it has come down from the White House, Commander. I've been told that it may change before next November and that it may not." The SECNAV answered. "This is all status quo pro-bellum, gentlemen, and the closer we get to election season, the more frantic things will likely get at the Pentagon."

"Thank you, sir." The men answered as the SECNAV left the room.

"Alright, so, we all have our assignments, I guess that means that Harm and I are away from our post." Bax gave Harm a pat on the shoulder and headed for the door. "You might want to tell Mac before we leave. My staff car is idling."

"Can't tell Mac, she's in court right now. Is there any reason that we need to get back to the Pentagon before noon?" Harm asked as the two of them headed for the bullpen.

"Yeah, Admiral Barris demands a briefing with his entire staff before noon every Monday and those briefings normally end up with us ordering both lunch and dinner into the conference room." Bax and Harm headed through the bullpen toward the elevator.

"This speaks volumes for the efficiency of this administration. They refuse to make appointments because they're worried about who's going to get the most votes next November." Harm shook his head. The elevator got to the bottom floor and the two of them walked to Admiral Baxter's staff car.

"Speaking of next November, let's see what's on ZNN." Bax clicked on the TV in his car.

SAME TIME

BEN'S TRANSMISSION SHOP

BETHLEHEM, PENNSYLVANIA

"You sure you want to make the announcement at a garage? Most politicians would go to a school or a courthouse or even a hospital or university. You go to a transmission garage." Peach joked as she elbowed her husband in the ribs in the back room office.

"Honey, in 2004, we won the largest percentage of the popular vote that any Democrat has ever won in the state of Pennsylvania. We did it by making the Democratic Party the party of the working class. It doesn't take much to portray the Republicans as the party of big business and Klan members the only trouble that the Democrats have had problems doing that without coming out and tactlessly calling them that. We have to realize that at one point or another in the last forty years, most Americans have voted Republican. If we call them rednecks and white collar thieves then we look pompous and arrogant, however if we can just associate ourselves with being the opposite of what we believe them to be. Democrats are Democrats. Democrats are people like Harry Truman and leaders like Harry Truman." Nate got up out of the chair.

"See, now there's the reason that Democrats rally behind you. You just need to be the man who can convince the rest of the country and realize that anything he said to convince Democrats to give him their nomination may be used against him by Republicans to scare Independents in the lead up to November." Peach looked up at her husband who was wearing his blue dungaree work-shirt with his name tag over his left pectoral.

"I keep forgetting that you worked with the Clinton campaign in '96." Nate shook his head and kissed her cheek.

"You used to forget a lot when you were working for me. You were a first class grease monkey though." Ben Ross walked in, wringing his hands to clean some of the grease off them.

"Uncle Ben!" The boys shouted as they ran over to the aging former Marine and now small town mechanic.

"Now there's three little Marines right out of the General Ross mould if I ever saw any." Ben crouched down collected the boys in his arms. "They're getting really big."

"Tell me about it, they're four years old, I don't know where the time goes." Peach walked over and hugged Nate's aging uncle. "How have you been, Ben?"

"Working six days a week, you know how it can be." Ben gave Nate a pat on the back. "I set you up with a real easy one for the cameras, front seal pump." The two of them moved out into the garage and Nate watched as Ben ordered the car to be raised up on the lifts. Nate put on his eye protection and gloves and went to work on the car. The press showed up at precisely eleven and Nate raised his goggles and stepped out on to the open tarmac with his family, including his uncle, and the entire staff of the garage.

"Don't tell me, all your press trucks broke down at the same time, just as you were driving through Bethlehem?" Nate joked as he cracked a smile.

"You tell us why we're here, sir, you called us." One of the reporters remarked.

"I did? Well, honey do you remember a reason why I would call a bunch of reporters down here?" Nate turned to his wife who was smiling widely but shook her head like she didn't have the answer. "Right, I remember now. I was supposed to give some speech about how I believe that the direction that I see the leadership of the Republican Party taking American is endangering our interests abroad and diluting our values at home. Truth, Justice, Liberty, the American Way; these can't just be buzz words in an election campaign we have to live, breathe and in some cases even die for. I laid my life on the line for these values in the Gulf and thousands of Americans put their lives on the line for these values everyday. I cannot, in good conscience, stand by and let this happen. So, I'm here today to announce my intention to seek the Democratic nomination for President of the United States." And thus kicking off the 2008 Nate Ross for President Campaign.


	2. Five Stars and An Old Picture

_A/N: _ _We're unaware of what the 2008 Democratic Primary Schedule will look like so we made one up. We also accidentally placed the New Hampshire Primary ahead of the Iowa Caucus; in reality, it isn't and we apologize because we like to keep the story as factual as possible so we apologize for this glitch but it is fiction………right?_

1320 ZULU

ROSS FOR PRESIDENT HQ

MANCHESTER, NEW HAMPSHIRE

THE DAY AFTER THE NEW HAMPSHIRE PRIMARY

"You've been here all night, sir?" Nate's campaign manager Charlie came walking into the large high school gym.

"The feeling of adrenaline never really left my veins, I didn't feel right unleashing it all on my wife last night, and I would like the poor woman to be able to walk without looking like she's trying to carry a watermelon between her knees." Nate joked as Charlie walked over by his side.

"Fifty-four percent in New Hampshire is good. Most incumbents and eventual nominees win New Hampshire; we've got Iowa next week. If we take Iowa, we've got Virginia, Louisiana, Michigan and Oregon in the following weeks _and_ we'll have the momentum. It all bodes well for us." Charlie took a seat on the stage next to Nate.

"Why did you join my campaign, Charlie?" Nate asked.

"Because I believe in what you say. You talk about really helping the kids of taxi drivers and mechanics and janitors. You want America to have a better future. That's something no Democrat has talked about in maybe sixty-five years. That's something no Republican has really been serious about since Lincoln. You've got the ideas; it's my job to make sure the American public hears them." Charlie answered. A staff member pushed through the doors into the gym and walked up to Nate.

"Sir, I think you may want to see this." The staffer handed the paper to Nate whose face suddenly went ghost white. Nate put a hand over his mouth and looked up at the staffer.

"Tell Mrs. Ross; have her send the kids to visit with their Aunt and Uncle in McLean, Virginia." Nate gave the directive. "Get the plane on the tarmac ready to take me to Arlington." Nate turned to Charlie. "Go on ahead to Des Moines; I'll join you some time this weekend." Nate gave Charlie a pat on the back before heading for the door at the back of the gym.

SAME TIME

THE PENTAGON

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"What's up with having the flag at half mast?" Harm asked Bax as the two of them went walking into the Pentagon.

"You don't watch ZNN before you get in your car in the morning?" Bax returned a salute to a passing Lieutenant before opening the doors and stepping inside the building.

"The kids like watching their cartoons in the morning before they go over to AJ's for the day." Harm answered as they turned through the corridors toward their offices. "Why, what did I miss?"

"Harm, think about it, why do most people lower flags?" Bax turned to face his former classmate.

"Alright, and this is the Pentagon, so if our flag is at half staff, chances are, whoever died probably served in the military." Bax concluded.

"You know, a few years ago, I would have been able to put all this together with minimal prompting but after five years of command posts, I think my investigative skills have dulled." Harm shook his head as they stopped in front of Bax's office.

"You know what you need?" Bax pointed a manila folder at Harm.

"A night of hot unbridled sex with my wife?" Harm ventured with a laugh.

"I was going to say a weekend fishing with Keeter and I on the Potomac River but your idea is good too." Bax joked.

"See you at lunch?" Harm asked as he headed for his office.

"Remember that we've got that meeting with the Deputy Commander of the Atlantic Fleet. We've got to do something about operating in the Virginia Capes with the recent step up in hurricanes over the last few seasons." Bax ducked into his office and left Harm standing in the hallway. "Oh, and Harm, I'd suggest you find out who died, chances are your house is going to be flooded with little rugrats on Friday."

Harm furrowed his brow and headed down the hallway toward his office. "Morning, Petty Officer." Harm buzzed passed his yeoman and into his office.

"Sir!" The yeoman called after him. Harm stopped halfway through the door and turned around to face the Petty Officer. "Admiral Chegwidden on line one for you, sir."

"Thank you, Petty Officer." Harm nodded and headed into his office. He took a seat at his desk and picked up the phone. "Rabb."

"Harm, it's AJ." Admiral Chegwidden started.

"My yeoman told me, what's going on, Admiral Baxter alluded to something but he couldn't come right out and say it." Harm was beginning to ramble.

"Harm, slow down. Last night, General Jack Ross died. He suffered a massive heart attack just after 2200, in his living room near Quantico." Admiral Chegwidden continued to explain. "From what my mother-in-law tells me, the funeral is going to be Friday at Arlington. I was just wondering if you might mind taking care of four kids under the age of five on Friday."

"Why four kids?" Harm asked as he began to doodle on the legal pad in front of him.

"My son, and then my nephews Tim, Jack and Brad." Admiral Chegwidden replied. "I have to go to the funeral and I hate to push this on you but I was just informed that I would have my nephews present so that my brother-in-law could attend the funeral. I need you to take the ball on this one."

"Will do, sir, thanks for the notice." Harm sighed heavily.

"And for God's sake, Harm, you're the Deputy Chief of Naval Operations, you don't need to call me 'sir', I'm retired." The Admiral lectured.

"Yes, sir." Harm chuckled before setting the phone back down in the cradle. Friday was going to be a long day but thankfully he had a lot of leave time on the books so one day where he, along with half of the Pentagon, would be otherwise occupied.

1314 ZULU FRIDAY

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

A knock came at the door early in the morning. Mac came walking down the hall toward the door with little Sasha on her hip. She got to the door and she saw Nate and Nicole Ross. Nate had two young boys asleep against his chest and Peach was cradling one in her arms. "Harm told me that you guys would be here today, come on in." Mac waved them in. "It's been a long time since I've seen the boys." Mac smiled as she saw the three of them fast asleep. "Sorry about your dad, Nate."

"You know what they say, Mac. Old soldiers don't die." Nate placed Tim and little Jack down on the Rabb couch.

"They just fade away." Mac concluded the old MacArthur quote.

"Thanks for taking care of the boys today." Peach hugged Mac after she set Bradley down with his brothers. "We haven't sat down and talked in a long time."

"Since you guys moved to Pennsylvania." Mac informed her. "But it's understandable. He's the governor, I'm not sure how many vacations you guys have taken in the last four years." Mac chuckled.

"Nate, nice to see you again." Harm came down the stairs with his son. "Been to long."

"Certainly has." Nate smiled and shook Harm's hand. "Thanks for taking the kids today. I'd like to take them but the idea of letting four year old boys see their grandfather buried, even if it is at Arlington, I think that would be too traumatic for them."

"Yeah, I understand. Did you know if he had any heart problems?" Harm chanced to ask.

"I had no idea. I mean it shouldn't have struck me as a surprise. I don't think we have a picture of dad where he doesn't have a glass of Jack or scotch or a bottle of beer in his hand. He ate nothing but rare steak and baby back ribs with loads of barbecue sauce and he loved French fries. I think his being a Marine and working out was the only thing that made this heart attack happen at seventy-five instead of fifty-five."

"You seem to be taking this well." Harm commented.

"I've been facing my dad's mortality for as long as I can remember, that's how long he's been commanding Marines. I know he would have preferred to die leading some valiant charge and my only regret is that he didn't because he really would have loved that." Nate smiled and chuckled to himself. "Death by a pork hand grenade, that's what he used to call it."

"I heard about your numbers in New Hampshire, congrats." Harm gave him a clap on the shoulder.

"That's the only thing that sucks about running for President, I don't even have time to properly mourn my father because by Saturday night I have to be in Des Moines, Iowa giving a speech on ethanol and farm subsidies." Nate shook his head. "I really need to thank you for today."

"Not a problem, man, I understand what you're going through, we'll see you at the wake later." Harm answered with a nod. Nate walked with Peach over toward the door.

"Thanks again, you guys." Peach said as they retreated through the door.

"Well, they appear to be sleeping, we can thank God for that at least." Harm yawned.

"Don't be too quick to thank God, flyboy." Mac giggled a little as she pointed to the couch where Sasha was sleeping next to little Jack.

"I'm going to have a talk with that young man when he wakes up." Harm commented as Mac pulled him into the kitchen.

1405 ZULU

ARLINGTON NATIONAL CEMETERY

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

The crowd gathered around the burial sight in Section One of Arlington Cemetery and there were seas of the midnight blue of Marine Dress Uniforms, and the white of Navy dress uniforms and even spots of Army green and one purple Air Force uniform that stood out like a sore thumb. There was a collection of suits in the crowd as well including the current President of the United States.

Nate was dressed in his Marine dress uniform complete with Mameluke sword. He walked alongside the rest of his family up the green grassy hill toward the graveside under the shade. Nate walked up and shook hands with the Generals and Admiral that has served with his dad on the Joint Chiefs and the Presidents he had served as Commandant of the Marine Corps before General Jack retired.

The Minister delivered the service and then he called on Nate to deliver the eulogy. Nate stepped up to the head of the casket to deliver the eulogy he had prepared. "My dad used to tell me that the one thing he wanted his sons to be, were honourable men. For the first eight years of my life I barely saw my father, he did four tours in Vietnam through out the course of the war until he was brought home for the last time in'74. Even after the war ended, dad was out with an MEU in the fleet or assigned to commands abroad, he was always working but at night, if we couldn't sleep, dad used to tell us what it was to be a Marine, and he used to instil in us the ideas of what it was to be a good American. My told us that above all, a Marine was honourable and so was an American. He used to tell us that our honour was all we had as men and I think that element of who and what my father was, is the greatest part of his lasting legacy.

You may call him a war hero. You may call him just about anything but I think that when people remember my dad, that are only three things that I think he would have liked to have said to describe him. That he was a Marine, that he was an American and that above all, he was an honourable man. I love you, dad. I'll miss you." Nate touched the casket and moved back over to join the crowd. He stopped for just a second when he remembered something. "The President told me that he wanted to say a few words, so I figured that I should announce him. Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States." Nate motioned for Andrew Russell to step forward.

"I got to thinking about what tribute I could pay for one of our nation's greatest warriors. I served one tour in Korea and that was as part of the draft, so it's impossible for me to fathom someone like Jack who would option to run into a war zone like Vietnam not just once but four times. On top of that, to win the medal of honour for saving your entire platoon of Marines despite being discouraged, as a Senior Officer from being that close to the front. What kinds of men do these things? The answer is three words; United States Marines. So, in my new found appreciation for the Marine Corps inspired by the actions of General Ross, I researched and learned that there is no O-11 flag billet for the Marines like there is for the Navy, Army and Air Force. So, I'm issuing a Presidential decree to create one to honour such men. There are to be three men posthumously awarded this new five-star rank: Lieutenant General Lewis B. Puller Sr., Lieutenant General John A. Lejeune and General Jonathan Horatio Ross Sr. are all hereby promoted to the rank of General of the Marines." Andrew Russell walked over and handed the pentagon of five stars insignia to Eileen Ross, the widow of the deceased. "On the behalf of a grateful President." He whispered.

"Thank you, Andrew." Mrs. Ross replied. As she accepted the stars, she gave the President a pat on the hand. The Marines gave a twenty-one gun salute and the Navy contributed a missing man flyby. The Marine guard folded the flag and handed it to Mrs. Eileen Ross. Soon after this, the bugle played the Last Post and the casket was lowered into the ground.

1643 ZULU

CHEGWIDDEN RESIDENCE

MCLEAN, VIRGINIA

The mourners from the funeral earlier had come back to the Chegwidden house where they were joined by a few others, including the Rabbs, had gathered with mourners who had come from Arlington. Beverly Chegwidden was, as was to be expected, a gracious hostess as she, Nate, their brother Steve and their sister Anna received the condolences of the others as the wake then progressed. An overall ban on saluting out on the porch was considered but it was ultimately decided that the General wouldn't have tolerated such a lapse in decorum. So, in keeping with what the Ross family believed the General's orders would be, saluting outside wasn't halted and as such, it seemed to happen quite frequently.

Nate stood outside on the Chegwidden porch alone once the food tables opened up. He pulled a cigar out of his pocket and ran it under his nose before biting off one end and firing up his Zippo to light the thing. "Those things will kill you." Nate heard a voice say behind him.

"I've heard that, but I figured that I should smoke one in his honour. It's what we did together when his dad died back in '92." Nate let out a puff of smoke. "You want to smoke one with me?" Nate handed the cigar to Harm.

"You do realize that this is a two hundred and fifty dollar cigar, right?" Harm asked as he and Nate leaned on the rails of the porch.

"Running for President, can't smoke Cubans so I have to buy the expensive Dominican stuff. It was nice of Sergei to fly all the way in from Camp Lejeune to support Anna. I know she wishes Mikey Roberts could have been here but I imagine that it's tougher to pull Surface Warfare officers out of the fleet then chopper pilots off of training drills they've done a thousand times." Nate rolled his eyes and puffed on his cigar. The door behind them opened and little Jack Ross came waddling out silently, his presence not being noted until he clung to his dad's leg.

"Daddy, grandma told me that grandpa wanted you to have this picture." Little Jack tapped on his dad's leg until Nate picked him up and sat him down on the railing. Nate took the picture that his son handed to him. "Daddy, who are the guys in the picture?" Little Jack pointed at the old black and white photo. Nate motioned for Harm to lean in and look at the picture. When he saw it, Harm's eyes went wide. He knew the Ross family was a Marine Corps institution he just assumed that they were Fort Niagara, the picture he just saw made them look more like the Alamo.

"Well, son, you're a little too young to understand this but I'll try to explain it. On September 2nd, 1945, the Japanese signed the instrument of surrender onboard the USS Missouri, thus ending World War Two. This picture was taken shortly after that signing at the request of President Truman who said he wanted a 'team photo' of the men who won the Pacific War. In the centre of the photo is General Douglas MacArthur and Admiral Chester Nimitz." Nate pointed to the two men to show his son. "Next to Admiral Nimitz, there are two more Navy Admirals; one is Admiral Bull Halsey and the other is Admiral John S. McCain Sr." Nate pointed to each of them men as he said their names. "Standing next to General MacArthur, is your Great-Grandpa and my Grandpa, Major General Horatio Ross and next to him is his old Academy roommate, Admiral Arleigh Burke." Nate rubbed his son's head before his son launched into his arms.

"Daddy," Little Jack chanced. "I want to be a Marine when I grow up just like you and grandpa and Aunt Anna is."

"Alright, buddy, go help your mom and your aunts, they need the Marines." Nate pointed his son toward the house and gave him a little tap on the head. "Another Ross Marine, I'm not sure the Corps could take another generation of us." Nate chuckled as he and Harm returned to their talk.

"Just think about this one, he's got the right kind of influences. Your dad was infantry, your grandfather was infantry, your brother was infantry, you were a sniper and your sister is a Hornet pilot." Harm argued.

"My sister is only a Hornet pilot because she was spending too much time with Rabbs." Nate joked as he puffed again on his cigar. "I can't believe my old man is gone. I think I have a whole new admiration for you."

"Why's that?" Harm asked as the two of them continued to smoke.

"Because you were only six when you lost your father, I'm forty-two and I don't think it would hurt any less." Nate sighed in a self-deprecating way. "My dad got to stay in the Marine Corps two years past mandatory retirement age because President Clinton thought he was the best Marine in the Corps to continue as Commandant. I just wonder sometimes what the hell he thinks of me."

"You know how many times I've laid awake at night wondering what my dad thinks of me?" Harm asked. "I used to think like that a lot. Now, I just look at Sasha and at Tommy and I think that my dad looked at me the same way I look at them and he'd be proud of anything I've done as long as I'm happy doing it. He'd be proud of me."

"Yeah, I know what you mean, I think that about my kids every second of the day pretty much but my dad and I have different fathering styles. I'm not sure that the Commandant with a five generation Marine pedigree would be so kind to having a politician as a son." Nate blew a puff of smoke.

"That's where you would be wrong, Nathan." Dr. Eileen Ross came walking out on to the porch with tears in her eyes. "If you knew your father's last words, you would have bitten your tongue before saying anything. Your father said that he had only one regret and that was that he only wished that he could have had the chance to vote for you."

"I know, mom, there are just some things about my relationship with dad that still linger over my head. I know he was a good man but there's just something about the way we used to butt heads that I think will just stick with me for a while." Nate shook his head.

"Nathan, as your mother I consider it my duty to advise you and as a woman who practiced psychiatry for twenty years in the nation's capital dealing with Senators and Congressmen I feel I'm qualified to give some political advice. Scrap your long memory of unjust wrongs done to you by people who are consistently on your side. You need to build bridges some times, Nathan, know when to build and know when to burn." Eileen Ross gave her son a pat on the shoulder before heading back into the house.

"Wise woman." Harm joked as Nate stood there kind of stunned. "So, about New Hampshire." Harm led in, this was one of the few elections that he had been able to vote in that he was paying intensive attention to.

"I signed more wooden eggs then I'd ever seen before in my life. I had my staff pulling their hair out because apparently I am the only Presidential nominee since 1776, to go into General Stores in Dover and Manchester and actually answer uncensored questions from townspeople about healthcare and education and outsourcing. The hardest thing about it all is to hear people speculate about whether or not I'm lax on family values because I met my current wife while I was still married." Nate shook his head.

"Why don't you hit back? Attack them?" Harm asked. "You're a Marine, you've got to be itching to."

"The thing is, I'm not. I won't hit back at them, because the campaign I'm running has me so far ahead of them that if I resort to their tactics, it'll look like I'm threatened by them." Nate answered as he finished his cigar and stepped on it.

"And you aren't?" Harm asked.

"Lord forgive me for my hubris but I'm not. I just keep looking forward and it scares me to think of what would happen if Vice President George Hunt not only wins the Republican nomination but also wins the general in November." Nate shook his head.

"The Republicans are eating their young. They've got a Senator from Nevada and a Governor from Tennessee, both of whom are running right down the Vice President's neck. You've got one Senator from Maine who thinks you're too conservative and another Senator from Colorado who thinks you're too liberal, neither of which ran within twenty-five points of you in New Hampshire." Harm answered.

"Since when are you a political analyst?" Nate asked as the waiter brought out a pair of scotches on a tray.

"I have to pay attention to this race, I'm a flag officer, if you get elected it could have serious effects on my career." Harm mused as he took the scotch off the tray. "I don't recall us ordering scotch."

"We didn't, I signalled to the caterer for them, he's a former Marine, hew caught the signal." Nate informed his friend.

"There's a Marine signal for scotch?" Harm asked in disbelief.

"There are Marine signals for every alcoholic drink. You're married to one, you didn't know that?" Nate asked.

"Mac doesn't drink, remember?" Harm shot back.

"Of course, the point is, we have our scotch now and you are currently a one star Admiral sitting in a three star billet." Nate said almost in passing. "Now, you're hoping either that the next President likes you enough or thinks you serve the Department of the Navy well in your current post, in which case, he'll pin three stars on your shoulders. If the President doesn't think you best serve the Navy in that position, in which case, he will likely still stick an additional star on your shoulder and put you in AJ Chegwidden's chair. Either way, you stand to get a promotion after the next election. It's a pretty good promotion either way you slice it, which one would you prefer?" Nate leaned his elbows down on the railing.

"I was at JAG longer then any other branch of the Navy. It would be nice to head up JAG but then again, there's something to the power of being the Deputy Chief of Naval Operations." Harm had to chortle a little.

"Something to the fact that any Admiral, anywhere in the fleet has to pick up the phone if they know it's you calling?" Nate chanced.

"That helps, yeah." Harm nodded. "You know what it's like, you were the Secretary of State for three years, almost anyone in the world who had you calling them, had to pick up. There's just something that comes with the ability to get things done." Harm slightly shook his head. "It's not the power. It's that ability to feel like you're making a difference."

"Mac's turning you into an idealist." Nate mused.

"I think my kids might have something to do with it, too." Harm replied. "I think Bax likes being a DCNO, three stars make him think that he's looking at the Navy from the moon."

"I knew you had a sense of humour. Maybe it's just buried under that Annapolis demeanour." Nate ventured as he moved to sit on the railing.

"That picture you showed your son earlier, that really was something, your grandfather really that close to the five other men in that picture?" Harm moved toward the door slightly.

"McCain and MacArthur? No. I think that was the only time after the war that my grandpa ever even stood near them. Nimitz, I think he sent my grandfather a Christmas card every year until 1960. Halsey came to fish at the cottage on Lake Erie a few times before he died in '59. Burke and my grandfather remained close friends until my grandfather died in'93; Burke delivered the eulogy at my grandfather's funeral." Nate paused. "Imagine, being friends with someone for seventy years."

"I've been friends with Keeter, Bax and Sturgis for close to thirty." Harm added with a chuckle as the two of them moved out on to the lawn.

"Almost halfway there, congratulations." Nate laughed as the two of them paused on the lawn. "So, this is the backyard where the famous engagement party kiss took place?"

"I forgot that you heard about that. Yeah, this is it. Hard to believe that was almost eight years ago." Harm sighed. "I think we may have talked about just about everything. I think we're actually caught up. What started all this?"

"Cigars and New Hampshire." Nate answered simply.

"Yeah, New Hampshire." Harm stated simply as the two men looked out on the dreary Friday that had befallen them.


	3. Heartland

2240 ZULU SATURDAY

ROSS CAMPAIGN PLANE

SOMEWHERE OVER KENTUCKY

"Is that Charlie on the phone?" Nate asked as he poured over the latest research Charlie had left for him.

"Yes, sir." A member of the campaign staff answered.

"Hand me the phone, Jeff." Nate waved for the phone. The young man handed Nate the phone and Nate pressed it between his ear and his shoulder. "Charlie, I've been reading this research on ethanol that you sent me, I'm not sure I like what I'm seeing here. It's a good cap on foreign oil imports but for God's sake it takes almost a gallon of oil to produce a gallon of ethanol. Not to mention the fact that the federal government already subsidizes it out the yin-yang. I get that it creates a 150,000 jobs and that's great for the federal economy." Nate began to explain but Charlie cut him off.

"Listen, Nate, you're running on great momentum from New Hampshire and I understand the concerns you've got about ethanol but you're running at 48.6 percent in a field of four candidates here in Iowa." Charlie started to explain when Nate cut him off.

"I realize that no policy is perfect, Charlie but a 50-50 argument is not exactly a stable policy and I'm not exactly pleased that you guys wrote a speech without talking to me first." Nate began to pace as he loosened his tie.

"Nate, this isn't great policy but it's the only option we currently have that provides any alternative to foreign oil. As for the speech thing, we wanted to run it by you but no one wanted to disturb you at the funeral or the wake. Anything you want to change?" Charlie asked, Nate could tell he sounded exhausted.

"Yeah, but I'll rewrite it myself. The first draft sounds like I bathe in ethanol and spend my Sundays handing out farm subsidies to Iowa farmers. These people aren't stupid, Charlie. They know I'm a Marine brat from Bethlehem. They know that I know Iron, Coke, Chromium, Steel and the Naval Officer's Guide and all they want to hear is that I'm going to leave the farming up to them and I'm going to support them while they feed America." Nate answered in his own impassioned way.

"Are you going to put that in the speech?" Charlie sounded surprised.

"No, why?" Nate was confused.

"It's good, it's really good actually. Audience polling shows that you can come off as a bit of a snob from time to time so if you can show some humility, especially in Iowa it should play really well nationally." Charlie explained.

"Charlie, when was the last time you slept?" Nate asked, half serious.

"About 39 hours ago, boss." Charlie answered.

"Catch some rack time; you're no good to the campaign if you're asleep on your feet. You've got me well prepped for the Corn Growers Convention tonight; I'll be landing in Wapello County in about a half an hour. I've got Ottumwa, tonight; I'll see you in Des Moines, tomorrow. Get some sleep!" Nate hung up the phone and went back to his seat next to Peach.

"You think ethanol is as bad a rap as you just laid off on Charlie?" Peach asked as she cuddled against his shoulder.

"Nah, Charlie's right, it's the best policy we've got, and it prevents us from suckling on the Saudi tit so damn hard. We can't suspend ethanol production while we try and develop something else and we're years away from the practical application of a workable hydrogen fuel cell strategy. The subsidies bug me because I don't think they help the average farmers enough but we can't do anything about it unless we get elected." Nate kissed her forehead. "I love you. Please don't talk to me about work for the next half hour."

"What do you want to talk about?" She asked, slightly curious.

"Anything that isn't work." Nate answered. He felt he tighten her grip around his waist. "Talk to me about the boys or your volunteer work or something, anything that doesn't have to do with ethanol, farm subsidies or my education plan."

"Well, the USO is setting up yet another big benefit for the troops in Afghanistan which I, reluctantly, can't be a part of due to this wonderful fifty state tour known as the Democratic Primaries. Then we've got our Run For the Cure in June in Philadelphia and in DC, which one we attend is up to what happens in the next few months." She nuzzled her nose into his cheek.

"I thought we weren't talking about work?" Nate asked lightly as he curled his wife in his arms.

"Are you kidding, it's the big elephant in the room." She giggled.

"Mule, honey, it's bad luck for a Democrat to say elephant on the campaign trail." Nate joked as he lightly kissed her lips.

"Mommy, Daddy, I can't sleep." Brad came waddling out of the part of the plane that had been turned into the kid's room. "Daddy can you tell me a Marine story?"

"Sure, sport." Nate got up from the chair and picked his son up. "Which one do you want to hear Iwo Jima or Guadalcanal?"

"Iwo." The youngster said as he laid his head on his father's shoulder.

2319 ZULU

OFFICE OF THE CHIEF OF NAVAL OPERATIONS

WASHINGTON NAVY YARD, ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"Any idea what this is about?" Harm asked as he, Bax and Sturgis went walking into the ring of the Washington Navy Yard that housed the CNO's office.

"No idea, anyone have any idea why both DCNOs and the current interim JAG would be called to the Navy's big office at 1900 on a Saturday?" Bax looked around. "No one has any idea? Someone must have heard something from Naval Intelligence."

"Nada. Looks like we're working without a net until the Chief fills us in." Sturgis stopped walking and so did the rest of the group as they entered the outer office of the CNO.

"The CNO is expecting you." The Chief's yeoman greeted. He pushed the door open and stepped aside to let the three senior officers pass him. Sturgis, Bax and Harm all came to attention in front of the four star Admiral.

"Gentlemen, you certainly took your sweet time getting here." Admiral Barris greeted.

"Sorry, sir, the Beltway was a nightmare." Bax answered, being as; of the three he was the senior officer.

"Never mind that. We have a serious problem. One of our subs has been crippled in the Sea of Japan. They've got enough propulsion to keep from sinking; they just don't have enough to surface. Right now, they're floating about two-hundred feet above hull crush depth. The problem in this equation is that they're sitting below two North Korean Destroyers both of whom would destroy the sub because they claim it's in North Korean territorial waters." The CNO explained.

"Is it?" Harm asked.

"Not for the last hour, deep water current carried it out of North Korean waters about an hour ago. Which I believe puts us in a slightly more favourable light." Admiral Barris raised a hand to his chin.

"Yes, sir, a ship of the United States Navy submarine fired upon in international waters by a Naval vessel representing another nation would constitute an act of war." Sturgis jumped in. "Sorry for interrupting, Admiral."

"Not at all, Captain, you're the JAG and a former submariner, the President wants you working closely with myself and the State Department on this one." The CNO gave Sturgis a clap on the shoulder.

"Why did you call _us_ down here then, sir?" Harm asked referring to Bax and himself.

"Courtesy call, you two are the Deputy Chiefs of Naval Operations, if you aren't kept up to date then this Navy is in a lot of trouble." The Chief moved toward the door of his office. "Captain Turner, stick to my six, we're headed over to the White House. The President has State working on this as well. No situations with North Korea can be resolved without talking to China."

"What about us, sir?" Bax asked.

"Go home and get some sleep. If this thing escalates, I'll send officers from Naval Intelligence to brief you on the situation and bring you to the situation room. Until then, go home and try to get some sleep, you're no good to the Navy if you're too exhausted to do your job properly." The Chief and Sturgis walked out of the office and into the hallways of the Washington Navy Yard. "Did you see this morning's issue of the Navy Times, Captain?"

"No, sir, is there something I needed to see?" Sturgis asked, trying to keep a foot pace with the senior officer.

"Yeah, the selectees for flagging. President nominated you for flagging on my recommendation and the Secretary of the Navy's. You're set to receive your first star." The two of them moved into the parking lot.

Back in the Washington Navy Yard, Bax and Harm were making there own way to the parking lot. "How do you think Keeter's doing out at Pearl Harbour?" Bax turned to face Harm.

"I think he's chasing a lot of naïve young blonde lieutenants around the base." Harm laughed.

"He's the Chief of Staff and Deputy Commander for the entire Pacific Fleet can he even chase a Navy skirt in the pacific without risking fraternization charges?" Bax asked as the two of them came up next to the staff car.

"That's a good point. But I reiterate, it's Keeter, if he can't chase a Navy skirt he'll either find an Army skirt or chase island girls." Harm answered, the two of them climbed into the car.

"Wait, Keeter's the Deputy Commander for the entire Pacific Fleet, what are the chances he's going to be working with Sturgis on this one?" Bax fired up the car.

"He should be and if he is, I'll sleep better tonight." Harm tapped on the dashboard and the car went forward.

2357 ZULU

CORN GROWERS CONVENTION

OTTUMWA, IOWA

"Alright, just remember, everyone who comes to Iowa has to take the ethanol pledge, they all know the material but they grin and they shake the farmers' hands and they give them this one pat on the back. The Republicans did it last night, Senator Young and Senator Kay did it before you. Just go out there and motivate them, you can walk away with Iowa in hand and take some momentum into the four primaries before Super Tuesday." Peach kissed him on the cheek.

"Don't you see an inherent contradiction in sending me out there tonight to pray at the God of ethanol and then we're going to go to Detroit in two weeks time so that I can praise the auto industry for polluting our skies and contaminating our water? I see my tongue falling out before the convention in July." Nate joked as he adjusted his tie.

"Just go out there and fight the battle for Iowa." She gave him a pat on the back and pushed him toward the stage door. Nate trotted up the steps to the stage's back entrance. He looked out on the audience of farmers and cleared his throat.

"If I sound a little groggy you'll have to forgive me I woke up this morning in Virginia and I'm going to go to bed tonight in Iowa. So, it's been a long day in minutes and miles. But you didn't come here to hear some Marine tell you about air travel. You want to hear what the Democratic Party intends to do with our ethanol policy. Well, I can tell you that ethanol is a necessary part of this country's immediate economic future. If we want to become less dependent on foreign oil imports then there is no doubting how crucial ethanol is to our economic survival. As the developing nations of the world begin to use more automobiles, and the oil supplies deplete, prices are going to go up. So, think how fortunate we are in the United States to have hardworking people, like the Corn Growers of Iowa," Nate's voice grew in intensity and there was massive cheering in the auditorium, "who are there to ease the blight of the American people. Ethanol created 150,000 jobs in the United States and it doesn't take an economist to tell you that anything that creates that many jobs is good business sense. So, I guess I can sum up my ethanol policy in four words: Thank God for Iowa!" Nate raised his hands as if in triumph and he shook the hands of a few farmers.

Backstage, Peach felt the phone ring in the inside pocket of her thick coat. Nate was still about halfway through his speech. "Ross for President." Peach answered the phone.

"Nicole, it's Andrew, I've got a real problem here and no one here who has one tenth the idea of how to solve it that your husband usually has. Can you put him on the phone?" The President asked, in what was his least demanding tone.

"He's got about forty-five seconds left in his speech to the Corn Growers. The Iowa Caucus is this week, remember?" Nicole turned away from the rest of the staffers.

"How could I forget? The Republicans are in a three way race so tight that only six tenths of a percent separates first place from third and all of them want me to endorse them because they think it will give them the edge. How many seconds before he gets off stage?" The President asked, starting to grow impatient.

"He's done with the speech, he's just shaking hands with the farmers now, he should be off stage in a few seconds. Are you sure you want him on this? Nate has a pretty distinctive brand of foreign policy, if you take his council on this one his fingerprints will be all over it and then you'll have Republicans denouncing you as endorsing a Democrat." Nicole coached.

"Nate said you were way too good at the politics game." The President laughed a little.

"Here he comes, Andrew, I'll hand the phone over to him, now." She covered the phone with her palm. "Andrew Russell on the phone for you, he's in some kind of crisis." Nate kissed her on the cheek and took the phone as they walked down the hall toward the idling car that was waiting to take them to the hotel.

"Thank God for Iowa? You know they'll replay that on ZNN for the next week it'll become the sound-byte of the campaign to this point. Good job. Anyway, I've got a foreign policy problem with North Korea." Andrew Russell started.

"Boil on the ass of the Asian world. What's the problem?" Nate and his staff climbed into the car.

"We've got a sub that's floating in the Sea of Japan without the necessary propulsion to surface. They can stay afloat so their above hull crush depth but the problem we're having is that we've got North Korean destroyers sitting above them." The President was incredibly and understandably stressed.

"Are they in territorial waters?" Nate was careful not to use the country's name so none of the staffers who could hear his end of the call knew what was going on.

"They were, the deep water current pushed them out into the joint Japanese-North Korean EEZ. Nate, from what I understand, the sub is off North Korean sonar for now but they can't make any major repairs to the propulsion system without creating enough noise to reappear on North Korean sonar, so they're stuck where they are." You could hear President Russell scratch his head.

"What carrier do we have in that area right now is it the _Stennis_, _Vinson_ or _Lincoln_?" Nate asked.

"_Vinson_ is in the Indian Ocean, _Stennis_ is on liberty in Manila, but we got in touch with the _Lincoln_ and they're currently fifty nautical miles south of the _North Carolina._" President Russell replied.

"The _North Carolina?_ As in the top-secret, most recent addition to the Virginia class, _**that** North Carolina?_ Andrew, you need to get the Japanese in on this and the South Koreans. Don't acknowledge North Korea directly, I wouldn't dignify them with even a diplomatic acknowledgement. Treat North Korea like an unruly child that both you and the Chinese need to punish. What they want is a seat at the big boy table and they have to realize that no matter what they don't get to force their way into international importance. Strong arm them, Andrew." Nate encouraged with a glimmer of the old Marine stoicism.

"Nicole was right, you do have your own way with foreign policy. Thanks for the help. Give my love to my godson." The President concluded.

"Will do." Nate closed the cell. "Another day, another crisis"

0132 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE SITUATION ROOM

WASHINGTON, DC

Sturgis and the Chief of Naval Operations walked into the Situation Room alongside high ranking members of the President's cabinet and the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

"Who's this?" The President asked.

"Captain Turner, sir, he's a submariner and a JAG lawyer, I figured that was probably the best combination in this situation." The CNO answered.

"What news do we have from State?" The President looked at Manuel Gonzalez, the man selected to replace Nate as the Secretary of State.

"When it comes to North Korea, the Japanese are willing to stand with us and so are the South Koreans, both of whom have the most at risk if North Korea starts becoming militarily aggressive. The problem occurs with China, they don't want to look subservient to the United States, not when more and more Western newspapers are calling them the emergent superpower." Gonzalez answered.

"The idea with our North Korea policy is not to beat the Chinese into submission but rather to encourage them to show a joint policy on this one. The fact is that the last thing that President Yuen wants is a radical Korea on his doorstep when Kim Jong-Il dies, which if our health reports are anything to go by. The best he can hope for is a unified, Democratic and moderate unified Korea under Seoul. If they show too much complacency with the current regime in Pyongyang they may end up with a radical nationalist Korea. They've already pissed off Japan, India, Vietnam, Taiwan, Russia and Hong Kong, they can't afford to anger any more of their neighbours." Russell looked around at the table.

"Sir, the _Lincoln _is in position to conduct flight ops now. In another hour, the rest of the battle group will be in position to conduct operations against the North Korean destroyer group. They'll have the permission and the operating support of the Japanese Maritime Defence Forces.

"Who's the Skipper and the CAG onboard the _Lincoln_?" The President asked.

"Skipper is Captain Stacy Loftness and the CAG is Captain David Rice. I established communication with them, sir; the CAG thinks it would be best to send his Marine Strike Hornets out if we order flight ops." The CNO answered.

"Captain Turner, in your opinion, what's the best way to rescue that sub?" The President turned toward Sturgis.

"Well, sir, the crew obviously needs the room to make a little noise to get the sub repaired. They won't be able to do that with destroyers sitting right on top of them. The necessary propulsion to keep them afloat and above hull crush depth won't be able to sustain itself much longer and if the deep water current was enough to push her almost a nautical mile and half, it could feasibly push them under crush depth." Sturgis answered.

"What was the last submarine you served on, Captain?" The SECDEF questioned.

"I was the XO onboard the Seawolf, sir." Sturgis answered.

"Alright, we need to get this done now, any longer and I'm not sure how much longer we can keep the press out of the loop. The American and Japanese Navies get that close to North Korean vessels in international waters, it doesn't look like war games, it looks like……" The President trailed off.

"War, sir?" Sturgis ventured.

"That's right, Captain." The President nodded. "Alright, everyone dismissed but Captain Turner." The room emptied and The President was left along with Sturgis. "I heard that you were selected for flagging, Captain. As a result, I have these for you." The President produced a box with new Rear Admiral shoulder-boards from his desk and pinned them on to Sturgis' shoulders. "Presidents don't look good taking advice from someone who doesn't have at least one star on their shoulder."

"Thank you, sir." Sturgis snapped off a salute.

"At ease, Admiral Turner. Listen, Admiral, I need your help, you're the only submariner on senior Navy staff here in Washington, a first since 1940. I need your legal expertise on this one as well. What precedents do we have to establish rules of engagement for this exercise?" The President asked.

"Sir, the rules here require some amending, being as this is really the first Naval style conflict since the end of the Cold War, the procedure is standard. We provide the enemy with all avenues by which to retreat from this act of aggression on his part. However, we have to show some force, so in keeping with the Chief's recommendation earlier I think it would be wise to have the Marine Strike Force of Hornets onboard the Lincoln up in the air and strafing the bows of those North Korean ships. We have to warn them but we can't forget that our priority has to be the crew of the _North Carolina_." Sturgis concluded.

"I have no intention of forgetting those sailors, Admiral. Are you trying to tell me that I may eventually have to remove those North Korean vessels by force?" The President asked the middle-aged Admiral.

"That's what I was trying not to tell you, sir." Sturgis answered. "If I may ask, sir, why do I have the feeling that something is being kept from me with regard to the _North Carolina_. Everyone knows we're producing the Virginia class to retire the Los Angeles class, why is the _North Carolina_ so important?"

"Because, Admiral, it isn't just the Los Angeles class that's aging unceremoniously. The Ohio class is getting up there in years. The _North Carolina _is the first real attack sub to have a strategic ballistic missile capability. Currently, there are four Trident missiles armed with nuclear warheads on that submarine." The gravity of the President's words hit Sturgis like a megaton of bricks.

"That explains what it was doing off the coast of North Korea and why we can't force it to surface with them so close. Sir, I think in light of the consequences, the North Koreans need to know see a show of force, let them know the United States Navy isn't just a Potemkin force, sir." Sturgis answered with a new resolved.

"My thoughts, exactly, Admiral. I've got State working with the Chinese and the Japanese. Hopefully, we'll have this resolved soon." The President shook Sturgis' hand. "Remember, Admiral, it isn't every one star that gets flagged by the President." With that, Sturgis stepped out of the situation room and headed for home.

0331 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm sat on the edge of the bed with Mac as ZNN showed aerial shots of the _Abraham Lincoln_ battle group coming into range of the offending North Korean destroyers. "You think the North Korean destroyers will back off?" Mac asked as she sat behind Harm with her arms looped around his middle and her chin on his shoulder.

"All depends on whether they get Chinese support. Right now the South Koreans and the Japanese have ships attached to the carrier group. If the Chinese show up, this goes from one minor regional power trying to make a power-play to a major regional conflict." Harm kissed her arm and covered her hand with his.

"You know anyone on the _Lincoln?_" Mac asked.

"We both do, a Bug pilot named Lieutenant Anna Ross." Harm answered as he began to stroke her arm. "Sergei called me on my cell on my way home from the Washington Navy Yard, he uttered several Russian swear words that I'd never even heard members of the Russian Navy use."

"You think they'll send up the Marines in a Naval conflict?" Mac asked, slightly confused from not having been an active line officer.

"Have to. The Tomcats are a great aircraft but they're speed makes them better in long range situations where they've got a bit of leg room. The Bugs are good in close; the Navy's trying to do is take out destroyer sonar with some 20-20 mike-mike. The Marines are highly trained, they're a good strike force and they have the ability to get in there and get out with the least amount of damage if it comes to actual close orders combat." Harm got even closer to the TV, now sitting on the very edge of the bed.

"You'd like to be there, wouldn't you?" Mac mumbled under her breath.

"I could be, if I wanted to be, takes nothing for the DCNO to get on a COD out to any vessel. I need to be here, it's just too tough for me to be away from you and the kids. I don't know how some of the young guys do it." Harm laid back on the bed. Mac smiled and climbed on him, straddling his hips.

"Harmon Rabb, I think you're becoming a sentimentalist in your old age." Mac pressed a finger in the middle of his chest.

"Maybe, now that Tommy can sleep through the night, I have no reason to want to overlook flight ops on a carrier." Harm was trying to hide his giveaway smile.

"Oh my God, I can't believe you just said that." Mac was shocked. "Are you sure?"

"Okay, maybe I want to be there a little bit." Harm held two of his fingers up a hair's breadth apart.

"Just a little bit?" Mac crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Okay, maybe a little more then a little bit, but only if I could have you there with me." Harm tossed her a flyboy grin to supplement his cover up.

"Oh yeah, I bet." Mac rolled her eyes at him when she suddenly felt his hands at her waist. He rolled the two of them over so that he was above her.

"It seems the tables have turned." Harm chuckled maniacally. "Surrender, Marine!"

"Never." Mac growled as she raised her head and feigned biting at his lips. Harm began to tickle her sides which caused Mac to laugh boisterously. "Harm!" She pleaded with him to stop until he attacked her lips with his own in a fit of playful passion. "Oh, Harm." She moaned as she reached for the switch on the lamp.

0524 ZULU

COZY QUARTERS INN

OTTUMWA, IOWA

Nate was in his pyjamas (code for a USMC t-shirt and boxers) pacing in front of a TV playing ZNN with one hand on his chin. "God, I hope Yuen listens to him. Otherwise I just advised the President to start the sequel to the Korean War." Nate grunted as he stood next to the bed.

"Yuen will listen to him. The last thing he wants is the world to see him as defending a closed society bent on starting a major battle in international waters where he's clearly the aggressor." She walked up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders.

"I'm in a bad spot here, if I come out tomorrow and endorse the President's action then the fact that I helped him co-ordinate his response will be so obvious that Stevie Wonder could see it, which will mean that the Republicans will flip and we're going to be fighting amongst ourselves which is exactly what Yuen wants, time to avoid making a decision." Nate felt her start to rub his shoulders.

"You're already thinking like a President and the Iowa Caucus is still two days away." She kissed his cheek. "You're worried about Anna."

"Of course I am, I never thought my baby sister would be flying Hornets off the deck in the biggest international crisis since 9/11. Did you talk to Sergei?" He asked, smiling at the persistence of the young man.

"Keep in mind that my Russian isn't as good as it used to be." She laughed. "He's worried."

"Of course he is, he's in love with her. I remember those days, when you prayed to God for the next day so that you might find the strength to tell that special woman that you're in love with her. The most paralyzing fear in your mind is losing her without telling her." He felt her move in front of him and curl up in his arms.

"Borneo." She whispered as she swayed in his arms. "You know that's the boys' favourite bedtime story?"

"You think they believe it's a true story?" Nate asked, smiling wisely.

"They're four. The idea of their father as the daring young sniper dressed from head to toe in vegetation and face paint to rescue their mom from the bad guy is really appealing to them. Of course they believe it." She kissed his forearm. "So, what are you going to tell the press tomorrow?"

"Exactly what America needs to hear. That in a time of crisis, we stand behind the President in his actions, as elected by the People of the United States to defend our great republic from a foreign threat." Nate answered. "I can't criticize a policy that I helped create."

"That might not be anti-Republican enough for some Democrats." Peach warned.

"Those Democrats are going to vote for Senator Kay no matter what I say. I'm the one in the race with the most foreign policy experience. Senator Young will fall in line behind me and so will the Democratic leadership. I'll deliver my position to the press after mass tomorrow. Now, come on, let's got to bed." He kissed her on the lips.

"Oh, sounds like fun." She giggled as the two of them climbed into bed.

0235 ZULU, TUESDAY

ROSS FOR PRESIDENT HQ

OTTUMWA, IOWA

_"This is Stuart Dunston reporting Live for ZNN. A few days ago, as the world seemed to face down a showdown with North Korea in the Sea of Japan, the actions of the men and women of the US Navy and US Marine Corps under orders from President Andrew Russell, worked tirelessly and averted a catastrophe. The next morning as the controversial orders to show force to the North Koreans were implemented, Governor of Pennsylvania and candidate for the Democratic nomination for President, Nathan Ross came out in support of the President's orders, earning some criticism from the more liberal members of his party. His support made many wonder whether the President called on his friend and former advisor for a plan of action. _

_One thing is for sure, any event which showcases his knowledge of foreign affairs is a gift for the Ross campaign. I'm reporting to you now from the Headquarters of the Ross Campaign in Iowa where Governor Ross just won 49.3 percent of the vote in the Iowa Caucus, Senator Gil Kay of Maine won 21.6 percent and Senator Roman Young of Colorado won 11.4 percent. This means that heading into the weeks leading up to Super Tuesday, Governor Ross has the momentum in the Democratic Primaries while the Republican nomination is still a tight three way race. Stuart Dunston, Reporting Live, ZNN." _


	4. Time Marches On

"Well, that makes Virginia, Louisiana and Michigan ours; we just have Oregon next week, then we go into Super Tuesday with all the momentum behind us." Charlie gave Nate a pat on the back.

"I'm worried about Roman Young coming up on my right; he and Gil Kay seem to have switched places over the last three states. They ran about even in Michigan but Young took second place overwhelmingly in Virginia and Louisiana." Nate took a seat in the chair and pulled his cigars out of the drawer.

"Don't forget we also lost Montana, South Dakota and Kansas to Young." Peach pulled the two of them out of their upbeat talk.

"Those states put together don't add up to Virginia. Besides, when was the last time anyone left of Joe McCarthy won Kansas?" Charlie responded as Nate handed him a cigar. The two men bit off the ends and spit them into the hotel waste-bucket.

"There's no smoking in here, you two have to go out on the balcony with those." Peach gave him a little push on the back toward the sliding door on the balcony. The sliding door opened and Nate stepped out with Charlie.

"So, there's the Oregon race next week." Nate started.

"Don't forget, there's the Arkansas race too, a trip to Little Rock may be in order just so we can show that we're not foregoing the red states as having been lost to Young. I know you had intended on going to Rhode Island for a day before we swing out to Oregon, why not pick up the Arkansas race on the way?" Charlie asked.

"Think I can win Arkansas?" Nate asked as he puffed on the cigar.

"You're polling within nine tenths of a percent of Young in Arkansas, if you as much as touch down in Little Rock and have coffee at a Dunkin' Donuts, you'll get a bump of at least four percent." Charlie was still trying to get a flame on his cigar.

"We collect all of them this week what does that give us going into Super Tuesday?" Nate asked.

"If we collect seven of the thirteen states on Super Tuesday, we can secure the nomination. Pennsylvania's on the ticket on Super Tuesday, so is New York, California, Texas and Florida along with a collection of key middle power states." Charlie finally got his cigar lit. "Let me ask, have you thought about a running mate if you secure the nomination?"

"I don't make plans that show too much hubris." Nate laughed, his teeth holding the cigar in his mouth.

"Times thinks you should pick Kay if you win. Popular Senator from Maine, gives you intensive credibility with the party's far left. On the other hand, USA Today thinks you should pick Young, another popular senior Senator, this time from a traditionally Republican state, gives you credibility with Independents and moderate Republicans." Charlie shrugged his shoulders.

"I want to balance the ticket but Young is too far to the right and Kay is too far to left." Nate paused and took the cigar out of his mouth, clutching it between his index and middle fingers. "You know why FDR picked Truman as his Vice President?"

"Because he needed help with the New Deal platform in the South and Midwest in the '44 election?" Charlie ventured.

"No, because FDR was stalwart but political diplomat with a real knack for domestic policy, that in the minds of many Republicans, lacked the toughness the President should have. Truman was a forceful Missouri firebrand and a compromise, he was an internationalist. Together they comprised the best one-two punch the Democrats have ever seen. I'm a painfully honest firebrand internationalist, what I need is a political animal with a knack for domestic policy." Nate gave Charlie a pat on shoulder.

"You're going to try and find your own running mate aren't you?" Charlie asked.

"As Frankie said, I did it my way." Nate smiled at Charlie who headed through the room toward the hotel lobby.

SAME TIME

SQUID'S TAP AND GRILL

WASHINGTON NAVY YARD

The combined weight of seven stars walked into the bar. Keeter was in from Pearl Harbour for a meeting with the CNO. Bax and Harm dragged themselves out of their dreary Pentagon back offices and into the dankness of this seedy bar. Sturgis came in from Falls Church just to gather with his old Academy buddies. "I can't believe that Mac and Bobbi let the two of you out of the house!" Keeter shouted over the loud strains of country music.

"Not all of us can be forty-five and single, when are you going to settle down with a nice girl, Jack?" Harm asked at the four of them reached for their pool cues.

"I found a nice island girl. I've actually been in a relationship for a couple of months." Keeter answered, downplaying his answer.

"Keeter in a relationship? It must have been twenty years since I heard that line." Harm joked as he chalked the pool cue.

"So, it's just the ranking officer who is currently without female companionship, there's a new one. With what a three-star makes in the Navy nowadays, I'm surprised you don't have a bunch of pretty young blondes falling at your feet. Not to mention, you've passed twenty years, so you're guaranteed your benefits and pension." Sturgis passed a pool cue to Bax. "Usual teams from the old days? Keeter/Baxter versus Rabb/Turner?"

"Got to be. I think that you and Harm are still about fifty-seven games under 500 from those days." Bax taunted. "That is, if memory serves."

"Alright, alright, I suck at pool and you couldn't get a girlfriend to save your life. I think we've once again lapsed back to being nineteen, you would think that would have evolved at some point in the last twenty-six years." Harm racked the balls on the table.

"It's your break, Sturgis." Keeter motioned. Sturgis drew his arm back and shot the cue forward to commence the game of pool. "So, Sturgis, when are you going to grace the world with another generation of submarine commanders, Bobbi's clock must be ticking pretty loudly by now."

"Don't mention her clock around her please. I get enough of it from her and from my dad, both of whom want to badly hear the pitter patter of little feet. I don't know how Chegwidden did it, I don't think I've gotten out of JAG Headquarters before 2300 most nights, I know Senior Chief Coates is getting a little annoyed. Woman that age wants a personal life and sixteen hours of work a day doesn't exactly lend to her wishes." Sturgis answered as he shot

"Young woman, huh? How's this Senior Chief Coates built?" Bax asked as he lined up the 15 ball and sunk it.

"Bax, the ideal words here are **Senior Chief**, Vice Admiral." Harm shot a look across the table at Bax.

"Hey, last time I checked the Navy didn't institute a policy against looking. I just wanted to know because it might be worth dropping in on Sturgis a little more often." Bax lined up another shot and sank the 10 and 12 balls.

"Bax, we've known you for over twenty years, it never stays as just looking with you. You practically invented the level after looking just so you'd have some place to go when you got bored." Harm reminded his friend. "I just don't want to see your career torpedoed by fraternization."

"Harm, you don't have to worry about my career. I've spent two and a half years in the Navy's big office, I've seen more then a few flag officers' careers get scuttled by their inability to keep their zipper zipped." Bax's last shot launched the remaining striped balls into the holes.

"I will never understand how you can do that." Sturgis jumped in, believing that the previous conversation had run its course.

"So our former boss is running for President." Keeter steered the conversation. "You going to vote for him, Harm?"

"I don't see anyone in the Republican field that I give a damn for. As a parent I can tell that Hunt's economics will bankrupt my kids' generation, not to mention more then a few moral inconsistencies in his speeches. Lloyd Heller, that Governor from Tennessee, couldn't find Kosovo or Kuwait on a map. Neither of which is particularly encouraging." Harm sighed. "There's no real choice but to vote for Nate. What about you Bax?"

"Vote for him? I intend on stumping for him at Naval bases around the country in the general election. Of course I'm going to vote for him. You look at the Democratic roster of Presidents and FDR, Truman, Kennedy, Carter and Clinton have a better foreign policy track record then Nixon, Reagan and Bush Sr. The only reason Andrew Russell has a respectable record on foreign policy is because Nate was his Secretary of State for three years." Bax and the guys walked up to the bar. "Let me guess, Sturgis, the Chaplain is pulling the Turner clan toward the GOP?"

"Actually, my dad sat down with Governor Ross back in January, he intends on supporting his bid for President. Ross is the only one who knows anything about the military and he's got them all on foreign policy by a mile." Sturgis ordered a beer.

"That just leaves you, Keeter." They all turned down the bar toward Jack.

"Nate's a good guy, he'll make a good President." Keeter answered.

"That's inspired, Jack." Harm gave his old friend a pat on the back as the four of them prepped to play another game.

1708 ZULU

WENDY'S OLD FASHIONED HAMBURGERS

LITTLE ROCK, ARKANSAS

The plane had touched down in Little Rock at around 1115 that morning and the waiting motorcade was unaware of where they were headed. The only directions that Nate had given them was the main drag of the city. A vague direction at best. The driver took them down a heavy commercial street and when Nate saw a crowded Wendy's parking lot, he ordered the driver to pull them into the restaurant. The driver did and Nate prepared to greet the people of Arkansas. This was what Charlie called 'retail politics'. But Charlie would contend that Nate gave it his own unique spin. He never did anything by the book or used the prepared lines but as Peach argued, that was part of his appeal. He was speaking from his heart rather then a cue card. Nate climbed out of the car dressed in his old Marine issue beige overcoat tied over a Philadelphia Flyers sweater and Pittsburgh Pirates baseball hat sat on his head.

He walked through the door with his family and Peach took the boys up to get meals from the counter while Nate and Charlie moved out into the gallery. Nate started to shake hands with people. "Hi, I'm Nate Ross, I'm running for President." Nate said as he shook hands with few people as he introduced himself.

"We know who you are, Governor Ross. We want to know why you're here." One man in a union cap and dark blue shop overcoat said.

"Well someone told me that you folks were voting in a primary this week and I figured I should talk to you about the issue and let you know where I stand." Nate sat on the table with his feet on the chair. "So, what's on your mind?" Nate asked with his fingers loosely intertwined. The restaurant was silent. Nate looked around at the blank faces. "Come on, I want to know what's on your mind. This is your chance to tell the Democratic Party what the people of Arkansas want from us."

"Well, Governor, I personally would like toy know what you intend to do about education. I don't think my kids are learning what they need to know." One middle aged woman with a few young children stepped forward.

Nate smiled; his reformations to the education system in Pennsylvania had been his biggest triumph of his term in office. "That's a good question and I'll tell you what I intend to do. First of all, a good education has to be for the body and the mind. Obesity is a growing epidemic in this country and we can no longer acknowledge what a serious health concern that is so, we have to amp up our Physical Education program to match that. That means more running, more callisthenics, more exercise and mandatory participation. On the academic side of the coin, we need to deal with the fact that we're still running our school year on an Agrarian calendar of 184 days, I'd like to extend that to 210. Our kids can't just have all this information packed into their heads and then be expected to flawlessly comprehend it. Let's give them the time they need so that they can get the most of their education. Finally, in high schools I want to streamline the programs to target the end of high school goals of the students. If a student wants to go to University, there should be an academic program that's suited to fit those needs. Similarly if a student wished to attend trade school, they're going to need a different set of skills so let's provide them with the tools they need because I'll tell you not every student meets the one size fits all state of our current education system and University isn't everyone's destiny and thank God it isn't, because some of the best people I know back in Pennsylvania are Tool & Dye Makers, Mechanics and Millwrights." Nate's comment about university graduates some snickers and nods of approval from the blue collar boys in the back.

"What about you, sir? I'm willing to bet that you've got a question." Nate pointed at the one man who had commented earlier.

"I still want to know why you're here, Governor." The man sipped at his drink. "The primary may be a tight race here between you and Senator Young, but I'm no fool I know that you winning in Oregon and Rhode Island makes the outcome of Arkansas meaningless."

"No vote is meaningless. Let me ask you folks a question, why do you consistently send Democrats to the State House and the Senate?" Nate looked around the room.

"Because they brought us a lot of industry and they kept our taxes low. Anyone who can create jobs without a hand in your pocket deserves your vote." One of the other workers answered and his answer seemed to be the consensus in the room.

"Democrats have always been the party of the working class but the truth is that without your vote, we wouldn't have had the power to bring that industry or to prevent your taxes from being raised." Nate looked around the room. "We rely on each other. You rely on us to help you keep the money you earn and provide the country with jobs and in turn we rely on you to put us in power." There was an almost reverent silence in the room as Nate spoke.

"Governor Ross, I have a question about our healthcare system. My husband works part time over at the auto plant and we're having trouble with our health insurance company. What do you intend to do about healthcare?" Another woman asked from the line-up at the counter, she was in line behind Peach and the kids.

"There's no escaping the fact that we need to move toward a more public system. Having nearly fifty million Americans without health insurance is a disgrace. So, let's start out by providing it to kids and those people who hold steady employment but whose workplaces don't provide them with health benefits. America was built on the back of the blue collar worker; it's time they got something in return." Nate shifted a little on the table before just giving up and getting to his feet.

"How do you intend to pay for all this?" One of the union boys challenged.

"We can start by getting rid of the big upper class tax cuts. I never understood why those who made the most needed a break more then those who were making less then them. But I promise you put me in the Oval Office, I will never raise taxes on the working class, and there's a promise you can take to the bank!" Nate's voice grew in intensity as he reached the end of his answer and the restaurant erupted into applause.

Charlie had alerted the local ZNN affiliate about the trip and they showed up just before the education question. They taped right through the Q&A session as Nate took a few more questions. Once Charlie decided to pull the plug on the event, Nate thanked everyone for listening and they all lined up to shake his hand before he left. The one union man who had pressed Nate with questions was last in line. "Well, Governor Ross, I'd say that you made a believer out of me. I was hoping you'd come by the auto plant later and talk with the fellas around quitting time. I think we could use a good man like you for President and the guys at the plant, we could drum up some real support for you." The man shook Nate's hand.

"You tell them I'll be there, hard hat in hand." Nate answered with a smile.

2311 ZULU

MCAS NEW RIVER

JACKSONVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA

Sergei Rabb walked into his house on base. It had been a long day, he had just been promoted to First Lieutenant and as Harm would often remind him, the additional rank came with additional responsibilities. He tossed his bag down on the floor and threw himself down on the couch. It had been a long day. The SuperCobra was a demanding mistress but all in all, he couldn't think of another place he would rather be, he guessed that was how his big brother used to feel about his beloved Tomcats. Sergei flipped on the TV to a rerun of The Simpsons then he walked into the kitchen to microwave a few Hot Pockets.

Even at the beginning of March, the cockpit of a SuperCobra was hotter then hell and Sergei's uniform shirt and undershirt were soaked right through. He peeled off the offending garments and threw them out of the kitchen. "Nice way to greet a guest." A familiar voice said and Sergei turned around to see the newly appointed Captain Anna Ross peeling his shirts off her face.

"I am sorry; I didn't know you were here." Sergei was suddenly very aware of his own topless state. "How did you get in?"

"You left the door open. Not the wisest move with the March winds we've been getting." She smiled and tossed the shirts back at him. "That's the greeting I get? No 'hi, how are you?', no 'nice to see you didn't die strafing North Korean ships in the Sea of Japan?'"

"Hi, how are you? Nice to see you didn't die strafing North Korean ships in the Sea of Japan." Sergei repeated verbatim trying to conceal his smile.

"Harm and Mikey teach you sarcasm and that's the one part of your English you master perfectly." She teased.

"I was worried." He admitted shyly.

"I know, my brother called me and told me. He speaks Russian, you know? It's probably not safe to revert to it in order to swear around him." She joked as she sat at the kitchen table with him. "Sergei, I'm a Marine, too. I don't need anyone to look out for me when I'm in the air other then my wingman."

"Your brother looks out for you." Sergei pointed out.

"And if I thought I could get my point through his thick skull, I'd make the effort, but I don't own a jackhammer that powerful." The two of them shared a laugh. "It was kind of funny to hear that the big bad Rabb SuperCobra pilot was scared for me."

"I was not scared." Sergei protested. "I was worried, there is a difference."

"Not much of one." Anna replied. "Mikey was worried, too, he told me but he didn't go calling Democratic National Headquarters to get my brother's cell number."

"I was _very_ worried." Sergei attempted to cover.

"Well, I'm a _very_ big girl, you don't need to worry about me." Anna put her hand on top of his on the table.

"I only have one best friend, I'd like to keep her around for a little while longer." Sergei answered with the typical Rabb charm and smile. "Why are you here?"

"I got orders for the Second Marine Aircraft Wing. The Corps is sending one of the squads of Hornets from MCAS Beaufort to Cherry Point. I don't have to report with my new squadron until 0900 Monday so I figured that I'd come down here and hang out with you." She smiled at him fondly.

"You on staying here for the weekend?" Sergei asked.

"As long as that's okay with you and I don't get orders to report elsewhere." She answered.

"How about a movie tonight in the living room?" Sergei asked.

"I'm in, what have you got? I'll even make the popcorn." Anna got up from the table and went rummaging around looking for popcorn.

"In the way of movies, I have the four that my nephew and niece gave me last Christmas." Sergei went into the living room and crouched down to look in the cubby under the TV. "I have _The Devil's Brigade, Full Metal Jacket, Flying Leathernecks _and _The Bridges at Toko-Ri._"

"You think Harm sent you enough war movies?" Anna asked as she punched a few of the buttons on the microwave and began cooking the popcorn.

"Which one do you wish to watch?" Sergei asked.

"Better put in _The Bridges at Toko-Ri_." Anna called back. Sergei slid the DVD into the player and hit the play button. Anna came walking in from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn. The two of them sat together on the couch, before the movie ended shortly after 2234. Anna was asleep against Sergei's chest and Sergei had fallen asleep with his tongue half-lulled out of his mouth and his arm wrapped securely around Anna.

0251 ZULU, TUESDAY

QUIET NIGHTS HOTEL

MCMINNVILLE, OREGON

"We did it!" Charlie came running over to Nate. "We took all the states this week. Arkansas came in at 42.1 Percent, Roman Young came in at 34.6 and Gil Kay came in at 12.3 percent with the fringe candidates coming in with a few single digit figures. You were at 55.9 in Oregon and 59.9 in Rhode Island." Charlie was smiling from ear to ear.

"How did the Republicans come out?" Nate asked as he leaned up against the wall.

"Governor Heller of Tennessee won Arkansas and Senator Wayne of Nevada won Oregon. Right now all three of them are polling around 31 percent in Rhode Island with 47 percent of precincts reporting." Charlie leaned up against the wall next to Nate. "Hell of a thing for a sitting Vice President to trail in the primaries but George Hunt's campaign loses all momentum if he gets shut out in Rhode Island tonight." Charlie looked around. "Where's Nicole?"

"She's in the bathroom. I think she came down with a bug of some kind of twenty-four hour bug while we were in Rhode Island this week. I told her to wear a thicker coat." Nate smiled a little.

"Shouldn't you help her?" Charlie asked.

"I tried, I was told to quote, 'mind my own damn business', so that's what I'm doing and if there's anything I've learned from being around Peach for thirteen years it's doing what your told will minimize the trouble you get into." Nate informed Charlie. "Remind me what states are on tap for Super Tuesday next week."

"California, Nevada, New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, South Carolina, Florida, North Carolina, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, New York, New Jersey and Ohio. We plan to spend the first two days in the Southwest. Once we can thank the Oregon team, we have to get on the plane and go to Nevada tomorrow and we do Nevada and California tomorrow. Then we do New Mexico, Arizona and Texas on Thursday. We've got Florida on Friday and the Carolinas on Saturday. Saturday night we fly up to New York, I had Mrs. Ross talk with her mother; we've got New York that Sunday morning and Ohio that afternoon. We fly to West Virginia that night. We'll do West Virginia in the morning then New Jersey that afternoon and night. On Tuesday morning we fly into Pennsylvania and we spend Tuesday practising the same retail politics in Pennsylvania that put you in the Governor's Mansion back in '04."

"After which point everyone in my family is going to take two days and sleep because we're going to be exhausted after doing thirteen states in seven days. What are you trying to do, Charlie, kill us?" Nate asked sarcastically.

"I want to see you go thirteen for thirteen on Super Tuesday. You've already got every New England state except Maine which is Kay's home state and Massachusetts which hasn't held a primary yet. You've got Delaware, Virginia, Louisiana, Michigan, Iowa, Oregon and Arkansas. If you take the thirteen states on Super Tuesday you secure the nomination and you have four months before the convention to prepare to run for the big Presidential race in the fall." Charlie explained. "Let the Republicans beat the hell out of each other while we promote you as the American candidate, the man who was able to breech the divisions in the Big Tent Party."

"He's not Superman." Peach said as she snuck up behind them. "Besides if your plan for Super Tuesday works, my children are spending some time with their parents and their family in Pennsylvania before I take them out on a campaign trail, something which I'm not to all fired happy about to start with."

"I know, honey, I know. But think there's only one of two outcomes to this campaign, either we win and my work and residence are under the same roof, which allows me to spend more time with you and the kids. Or, we lose, in which case, we take it one day at a time to see what I do next." He lightly rubbed her shoulders and kissed her forehead.

"You're lucky I love you." She smiled lovingly. "Go make your speech and then we'll climb on the plane." She gave him a pat on the back and pushed him toward the main ballroom of the hotel. The last campaign stop before what would become known as the Super Tuesday Campaign-a-thon.


	5. Super Tuesday

1144 ZULU, SUPER TUESDAY

GOVERNOR'S MANSION

HARRISBURG, PENNSYLVANIA

Nate fluttered his eyes opened and sat up straight in his bed. In the last six days he had travelled through twelve states and shaken more hands then he thought humanly possible. He would sign his name; give rousing speeches to crowds of loyal Democrats and key independent voters, outlining his platform and his direction for a Democratic administration without mentioning his competitors for better or worse. Then he would sign some more autographs on the way back to the bus or motorcade and head to the airport or for some tour through local industry where he would invariably deliver another speech.

Now though, now he was just lying in the bed with his wife with ZNN playing on the TV. She stirred against his shoulder. "Hey." She whispered drowsily.

"Morning, honey." Nate smiled as he kissed her lips and lightly brushed her chestnut hair. "You realize how long it's been since I took the time to just look at you and admire how beautiful you are?"

"Probably close to twenty states ago." She answered with a coy smile. "Why do you have ZNN playing this early in the morning?" She paused for a second to think to herself before speaking two words. "Super Tuesday."

"That's right but that's work and we have almost two and a half hours before we have to be ready to go to any events today." Nate cuddled her closer to him. "We need to have a talk about your health. You've been sick a lot, honey and don't try and push this off as some cold you got in Rhode Island. This is bigger then just that." He felt her muscles tense and her eyes get wide. "What's going on?"

"You have to promise not to get upset." She goaded and he eyeballed her strangely.

"Have you committed treason or otherwise violated national security?" Nate asked. She shook her head. "Then I won't be angry." Nate smiled. "Tell me what's going on otherwise I can't be of any help."

Peach took a deep breath and looked up into her husband's eyes. This was going to make the campaign tougher on him; she knew that, there really was no escaping that fact. She took a deep breath and placed a hand on his chest. "I went to see Doctor Downey yesterday." She started.

"She's your OB/GYN, right?" Nate was unsure; he hadn't heard her talk about Doc Downey in a while.

"Nice to know you pay attention." She smiled at him, not showing any teeth yet. "She told me why I've been getting sick recently. Honey, I'm pregnant." She watched as a wide smile grew on Nate's face. "You're not upset?"

"Upset? Honey, I'm so happy I may throw hundred dollars bills from the car today." Nate kissed her quickly again. "Honey, never be afraid to tell me anything, especially something like this, this is wonderful news." He kissed her again. "I love you so much. Have you thought about how we're going to tell the boys?" Nate was starting to ramble.

"I spent most of yesterday and the last few minutes trying to recall the campaign protocol for having a pregnant woman involved in the campaign." She sat up in bed.

"There are some things more important then the campaign." Nate answered. "We'll let Charlie worry about it, I'm sure there's something we can work out with the DNC or D Trip to get an OB/GYN on the campaign bus if I secure the nomination."

"Your right, I'm sure there's some kind of pre-existing precedent for this." She wrapped her arms around him. "As for your doubts about securing the nomination," she grabbed the remote from him and turned up the volume on the TV, "listen to what they're saying."

_"This is Brian Holliman reporting for ZNN. Super Tuesday is the big day on both party's primary schedules. For the Republicans, this battle looks to further divide the party. What should have been a walk in the park for sitting Vice President George Hunt has put him third in a close three way race with Tennessee Governor Lloyd Heller leading the pack followed closely by Nevada Senator Brent Wayne. If the polls are anything to go by, Wayne and Heller both stand to make the biggest gains on Super Tuesday but the Vice President could knock Heller down to third if he is able to capture what is shaping up to be the night's tightest race in Pennsylvania. _

_For the Democrats, polls indicate that today's voting may just be the coronation of Pennsylvania Governor Nathan Ross as the Democratic Nominee for President. After his whirlwind twelve state, six day tour, the Governor leads in every poll in every state that is going to hold a Democratic Primary today. The range of the lead varies; in South Carolina it is at the smallest at eleven points while in the Governor's home state of Pennsylvania, his lead is at sixty points. Governor Ross is spending the day campaigning in Harrisburg, Pittsburgh and Philadelphia before concluding the day at Ross For President National Headquarters in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. Meanwhile the nearest Democrat to Governor Ross, Senator Roman Young of Colorado is campaigning in New Mexico today and third place runner Senator Gil Kay of Maine is campaigning in California. For ZNN, this is Brian Holliman reporting live from Ross campaign headquarters in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania." _

SAME TIME

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"Honey, do you really have to let her play with the Tomcat model at age four?" Mac asked from the table as Harm stood over the stove making omelettes.

"I wasn't the one who gave Tommy an entire battalion of teddy bears in Marine BDU." Harm shot back.

"They go with the paint in his nursery." Mac answered.

"Which you also picked." Harm reminded her. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to turn my son into a jarhead."

"No more then you're trying to turn Sasha into a Navy pilot." Mac argued.

"I miss arguing with you in court." Harm reminisced as he slid the omelette on to Mac's plate.

"I know, it seems like we were a lot livelier in those days." Mac mused.

"You know what they say about the calm before the storm, sweetheart." Harm reminded her. "Somehow I have trouble believing that the incident with the sub a few weeks ago was an isolate incident. There are just too many unknowns."

"The Great Harmon, still searching for the smoking gun." Mac theorized with a mouthful of breakfast.

"You know what they say, Mac, where there's smoke, there's fire." Harm shoved another piece of his omelette in his face.

"Mommy, you not supposed to eat with you mouth open." Sasha lectured her parents in her squeaking soprano. "You neither, daddy."

"You're right, Sash, how'd you get so smart?" Harm played with his daughter.

"Unca Matt, he say Marines are always mannery." Sasha grinned up at her dad.

"You mean well mannered?" Mac smiled at her daughter.

"You know better then I does, Mama. He says he told you all the time." Sasha's grin got even bigger.

"That kid is way too smart for her own good, she's got to stop spending so much time with Matt." Harm sipped at the orange juice. "What cases are on the docket this morning General Rabb?" Harm asked coyly.

"I think Sturgis either has it in for me or sailors are becoming better behaved. The cases that he's pushing to the front of the line are so tedious and mundane that they should never have made it to trial." Mac shook her head. "Most of my justices are tied up today with DDO or DUI charges."

"You know Sturgis, everything by the book. He'd give every sailor or rifleman a fair and speedy trial himself if he could. He must be allowing his senior attorneys more time for investigation." Harm theorized as he brought his plates over to the sink and then began rubbing Mac's shoulders. "Remember , no matter how frustrating idiotic young attorneys may make you, I'll do whatever I can to _alleviate_ your tension." He breathed right on her sensitive earlobe.

"Dirty pool, Admiral, dirty pool." Mac shook her head as she grabbed her briefcase and headed for the door. "Love you Sasha; love you, Tommy; love you, Harm." Mac called from the entry hall as she headed for the door.

"Alright guys, let's get ready to go over to Uncle Matt's." Harm gathered his kids and they followed Mac's path into the entry hall.

"Daddy, what's a Super Tuesday?" Sasha asked.

"It's an adult thing that you don't have to worry about until you're a lot older okay, Sash?" Harm kissed his little girl on the cheek as he tied her shoes for her. "Now what do we call Uncle Matt?"

"One silly jarhead!" The two kids answered simultaneously.

"Good kids!" Harm coached as he mussed their hair."

1734 ZULU

US STEEL CO.

PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA

Nate walked the floor at US Steel with his entourage and the plant managers as they passed the individual work stations, the guys on the floor would stop and shake Nate's hand or give him a pat on the back. Nate would ask questions of some of the guys on the floor who would explain to him what their specific job was in the plant, after which Nate would move on to the next station.

The tour of US Steel was long, and one that Nate had taken several times before as the state governor. He could remember the names of several dozen workers on the floor including a few of the shop foremen. By the time the tour ended it was almost 1400. Nate turned to face Charlie. "Charlie, what's the likelihood we could early exit polling here in the state for the Republican primary?"

"You want to know how the Republicans are doing?" Charlie was evidently surprised.

"You've kept me pretty well abreast of the Democratic exit polls. I want to know who's leading in this state and the margin between first and third place because I don't imagine it's bigger then two points." The two of them walked out into the parking lot toward the campaign bus. Charlie pulled out his cell phone and put in a call to a few of the campaign field workers. Nate went down to the back of the bus and sat on the bed with his wife. "How are you feeling?" Nate took her hand in his.

"You're not going to do what you did during my last pregnancy where you hovered like a mother hen are you. I've been on the phone with the DNC, there is some pre-existing precedent on this, just not at the Presidential level. The DNC will pay for my OB/GYN to come on the bus and monitor my progress and be sure that I'm not over-exerting myself." She answered as she took his hand.

"Now I feel lazier then hell." He cuddled her close as he felt the bus move beneath them. "That's all the stuff I'm supposed to be doing."

"Yeah, but you doing it while I was pregnant with the triplets almost made me commit homicide on several occasions." She chuckled and gave his head a pat. "Besides, I think it will be easier for me having another woman to talk to that isn't only connected to us politically."

"We could ask my mother along, she's a doctor and a relative." Nate offered.

"She's a psychiatrist who analyzes your every word." Peach interrupted him. "Sandra and I are friends. Just trust me on this one would you, you need to focus on what's best for the country."

"You're my wife, I need to focus on what's best for you." Nate retorted.

"And that's very sweet it's just not very realistic. You're running for President and over the course of the next few months, we're probably going to be spending a lot of time on this bus on the campaign trail so we have to be realistic. When we're in transit from event to event, at night and during the first few months and the less intensive campaign stops, I'll be right by your side." She hugged him against her.

"What did I do to deserve you?" Nate rubbed his nose against her cheek.

"Tipped a gypsy panhandler." Peach quipped as Nate began to kiss her neck.

"Boys are in their bedroom, right?" He felt her nod. "Thank God for the deluxe class bus." He moved up to her cheek just as Charlie came walking through the door.

"Boss, I……whoa!" Charlie shouted, reeled back and fell on his ass on the floor of the buss. Nate stopped what he was doing and looked up at his campaign manager. "Was I interrupting?"

"No, I always like to hold meetings while nibbling on my wife's earlobe." Nate rolled his eyes. "What did you find out, Charlie?"

"Lloyd Heller is leading in Pennsylvania according to exit polls. George Hunt is running about a half a point behind in second place and Brent Wayne is four points out of first place." Charlie dropped the paper from in front of his eyes.

"Charlie, get Senator Wayne on the phone, tell him that Governor Ross wants to talk to him." Nate directed and watched as Charlie just looked at him perplexed. "Just trust me on this one, Charlie." The campaign manager turned and left the room.

"You're going to talk to Brent Wayne? You get tired of ruling over Democratic politics, you have to rule over Republican ones, too?" Peach asked with a smile.

"That's what Brent Wayne is going to be asking himself. He's running four points back and I've got a 62 percent approval rating with Pennsylvania Republicans. If him and I happen to run into each other in Philadelphia, I might boost his ratings before the polls close." Nate explained as the two of them lay back on the bed. "Just a little over an hour to Philly."

Nicole reached for her husband's hand.

2012 ZULU

MCAS CHERRY POINT

JACKSONVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA

Marine Captain Anna Ross was doing a few lengths in the pool in what was very evidently a non-government issue bikini. Lieutenant Sergei Rabb had been directed poolside by a Gunny out on the base when he acquired as to her whereabouts. Sergei tapped his foot as he waited for Anna to surface.

Eventually, she looked up, removed her goggles and saw Sergei standing there. "Hey." She said as she wiped the water away from her mouth.

"You told me to be here early because you wanted someone to go shopping with for your dress. Am I too early?" Sergei asked as he watched Anna climb out of the pool. His eyes went wide as he saw the water glisten off her body. She looked up just in time to catch him staring.

"I often wonder what you're thinking when you look at me like that." She walked over and grabbed the towel from the poolside rack. "Then I think that I probably would rather not know." She laughed as she wrapped herself in the towel.

"You don't want to be in my thoughts, Captain." Sergei laughed as he watched Anna headed into the woman's locker room.

"Red light, Lieutenant." Anna's voice echoed from inside the locker room.

"What was sexual about what I said?" Sergei wondered aloud as he headed for the reception area outside the dressing rooms. After a few minutes of thumbing through the latest issue of the Navy Times, Anna came walking out of the dressing room in a tight USMC t-shirt and a pair of jogging pants with her hair tied back in a ponytail. The thoughts flowing through Sergei's head went back to a friendly familiar place.

"Snap to, Marine!" Anna shouted to jerk Sergei out of his reverie. "I outrank you, Lieutenant, just remember that. Now, are you ready to hit the mall or what?"

"I pick 'or what'." Sergei deadpanned.

"Get in the car, Lieutenant." Anna ordered as they walked out into the parking lot.

"You certainly do give a lot of orders to your friends." Sergei observed and he let his mind wonder on that point.

"What's going through that mind of yours right now?" Anna asked as she fired up the car.

"The thought of you in a black leather dominatrix outfit." Sergei answered as the tires squealed as the car barrelled down the road toward the mall. Anna had a very surprised look on her face.

"Really?" She asked in a high-pitched, squealing tone of voice.

"No, but you should have seen the look on your face." Sergei had to laugh as she playfully smacked his shoulder. After all, he had nothing to complain about, he was going to a fancy party tonight with a beautiful woman who needed a dress that he was going to help her pick out. Of course, Sergei's idea of help was having Anna try on every dress she liked and trying to not get noticed staring at her chest.

"Why do you have to go to this thing again?" Sergei asked.

"There are a lot of reasons. Among them are the fact that I'm a Democrat, in a state that is holding a primary today and I have to attend the party at Ross Headquarters tonight because Nate is my brother, he's running for President and everyone is expecting him to be announced as the Democratic Nominee. I don't have to go, but I probably should, I was invited after all. And why are you complaining, you get to go to a party with great food." Anna smiled as they turned a corner.

"I was not complaining, merely asking." Sergei replied.

2114 ZULU

PAT'S STEAKS

PHILADLEPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA

Nate's campaign bus pulled in among large crowds. One could barely see the ZNN van in the large mass of crowd. Nate was a Philadelphia hero from his term as Governor. He had actually done something about the education system. More kids from West Philadelphia high schools were going on to university then ever had before and this meant that less were dropping out. As Nate got off the bus he was pulled down into the mob by people who were shaking his hand and giving him pats on the back. The two man security team tried to make a hole for him to travel through but it took Nate twenty minutes just to finish signing autographs.

Nate eventually made it to the counter at Pat's where Nevada Senator and candidate for the Republican nomination Brent Wayne stood there waiting for him. "Governor Ross, you seem to be something of an icon in these parts." Wayne started.

"Well, Senator, you'd be amazed what people will think of you if you help them get a leg up in life." Nate answered as he shook the Senator's hand.

"My party calls that the welfare state." Wayne answered Nate's snide remark.

"I call it good policy." Nate was still smiling from ear to ear. "The two men ordered lunch and went for a walk together, out of the range of microphones but with the cameras fixed on them.

"Why am I here, Ross?" Senator Wayne asked.

"Calm down, Brent, your running four points off the lead and you're currently on live TV all over Pennsylvania with a Democratic governor who's surprisingly popular with the Republicans in his state. I'm trying to do you a favour. Being seen with me makes you look better by association in Pennsylvania and if you want a chance at going toe to toe with Lloyd Heller at your convention in August, you're going to need to win Pennsylvania." Nate gave the Republican a pat on the shoulder.

"Why help me?" Wayne pressed on as he took a bit of his Philly Cheese Steak.

"Because, I don't want to see George Hunt or Lloyd Heller get a shot at the Presidency. You're the Republican moderate in this race and I know that if I had to go up against you in the general in November and lost, the country wouldn't be completely screwed." Nate answered with a slightly frustrated tone.

"Ideals above party politics? Novel approach. How did you figure this would work?" Wayne had an amused smile on his face.

"Simple. I got you to meet me in one of the biggest black neighbourhoods in the State, to dine on a state treasure," Nate indicated the Philly Cheese Steak, "while speaking with the State's highly respected Democratic governor. Your rating will go through the roof because you'll be seen as a bridge-builder and someone who breaks with the old clichés of the Republican party. Gives you outstanding credibility with Libertarians who tend to lean more toward Hunt and fair-weather moderates who lean toward Heller."

"I still don't understand why me." Wayne shook his head.

"You're a moderate. In terms of the political spectrum you're closer to a Democrat then you are to a lot of people in your own party. A Republican progressive is better then a Republican regressive and that's George Hunt. A man who will hate my guts once he sees this PR stunt on ZNN." Nate shook Senator Wayne's hand. "It's been a pleasure, Brent. I hope to see you on the Debate stages in October." Nate smiled and headed back to the bus.

"Hey Ross!" Senator Wayne shouted after Nate. Nate turned to face him and so did everyone in the crowd who heard the Senator shout. "Go Flyers!" Senator Wayne shouted and there was mass approval of this gesture by the crowd. Nate knew that he had gotten through to at least one Republican today.

0213 ZULU

ROSS FOR PRESIDENT STATE HQ

JACKSONVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA

Anna and Sergei sat at the bar in the large former drug store watching the returns from the Super Tuesday voting come in over ZNN. There was a lot of celebration in the room. The returns from the Southwest weren't due in for another two hours but the results that they got from the eastern seaboard were already very encouraging. Sergei wasn't the only Marine in the room. In fact, the proximity of state headquarters to Camp Lejeune and the two Marine Corps Air Stations gave the Democrats a real presence with a military branch that typically went overwhelmingly for the Republicans. You'd never know it looking at this crowd though. Democratic Blue and Marine Dress Uniform midnight blue seemed to go hand in hand with a few spots of the Class A Marine green for good measure.

She sat at the bar nursing an apple martini. She felt someone thud down on the barstool next to her. "I don't understand why he would put the State HQ all the way out here." The man next to her grumbled.

"Because my brother was likely trying to avoid the old stereotype that the Democratic message didn't really have any sustainability outside of the big cities." Anna looked up from her drink at the man. He was about 5'10" with light brown hair that was neatly cropped and in his early thirties.

"You're, you're Anna Ross." The man stammered. "I'm sorry." He smiled weakly. "I do have a bad habit of sticking my foot in my mouth."

"It's about a size nine-ectomy." Anna joked with a quick smile.

"Yeah, uh, I'm Miles Cleary, I'm the nominee for the North Carolina Senate seat in November." Miles extended his arm to Anna.

"Apparently, you're also supporting my brother's run for President and upset about having had to drive in here from Raleigh." She peaked an eyebrow at him. "Got something against the Marines, Mr. Cleary?"

"No, nothing at all. Especially if the look like you." Cleary joked light-heartedly and Anna tried her hardest not to look completely annoyed and a few seconds away from taking out the would-be Senator at the knees.

"Well, that's very flattering, Mr. Cleary but I think that an officer I know is calling me over for a conversation, if you'll excuse me." Anna picked her purse up off the bar and headed across the room. At that moment, Sergei came over to the bar where Anna had been sitting and motioned to the bartender for a round of vodkas. "I see you were speaking with my friend." Sergei stated.

"Are all female Marines that big a ball buster?" Cleary asked with a heavy sigh.

"In her case I think it comes from having two brothers who are Marines and one who is an NCIS agent." Sergei chuckled. "She also doesn't particularly like being hit on. She's spent her life trying to be equal to her brothers, she abhors anything that makes her feel less or weaker."

"How does being hit on fall into that category?" Cleary asked.

"You politicians really aren't too swift." Sergei chuckled again as the bartender handed him the vodkas. "I will consider this the end of my free insight. You hitting on her reminds her that when it comes to dating, society does not her to be the aggressor. As a Marine, she dislikes that stereotype." With that last sentiment, Sergei headed away from the bar.

0632 ZULU

ROSS FOR PRESIDENT NATIONAL HQ

BETHLEHEM, PENNSYLVANIA

"Nathan, it's one in the morning on the east coast, why don't you go to bed and just announce in the morning?" Peach groaned as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder.

"The people out there have busted their hump for me in order to get me the Democratic nomination. I want them to have a reason to keep working for me right through November to get me elected." He kissed her forehead and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as he gently swayed them on the edge of the bed.

"You're always so damn noble." She chortled and put a hand on his chest. "Ben called, the boys have been asleep for more then three hours and the polls in California have been closed for ninety minutes. I expect Charlie will be rushing in here any minute." Just as she said this, the door opened and Charlie came rushing in.

"Boss, we won!" Charlie proclaimed. "ZNN just called California, Arizona and Nevada for the Ross campaign. We swept Super Tuesday!" Charlie got a handshake and a hug from Nate who had gotten to his feet.

"How's Brent Wayne doing in Pennsylvania?" Nate asked.

"Six points ahead with ninety-seven percent of precincts reporting. No one can catch him." Charlie answered. "A moral victory for Democrats, boss?"

"And Republicans, Charlie." Nate smiled as he clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Tell ZNN and the campaign staff to be ready, I'm going to make my announcement." Nate looked at his tired wife who was lying on the bed. "Tell them to expect a short one due to the late hour." Charlie dashed out of the room and Nate went back to sitting on the edge of the bed, he lightly brushed the hair out of Peach's face.

"Democratic Presidential Nominee Nathan Ross." She smiled. "Has a weird, articulate, Princeton ring to it." She teased him.

"Are you okay with this?" He asked, suddenly a little self-conscious.

"If I wasn't, do you think I would have let you do it?" She asked. "Go out there are thank them." She gave him a quick pat on the six as he headed for the door. Nate met up with Charlie in the hallway and the two men headed toward the big open campaign floor where workers, campaign organizers and a mob of the press were awaiting the man who was now, in effect, the leader of the Democratic Party and the Democratic Nominee after a gruelling primary season. Nate had no speech ready, his dad had though such practices in pre-emptive hubris to be unbecoming of an officer and gentleman and it was a trait that Nate had inherited.

Nate stood at the head of the room and addressed everyone present through the plethora of microphones that had been shoved in his face. "I want to thank you all for being here at this late hour. I want to thank you for your hard work and your dedication. I want to thank you for your support and I want to thank you for getting us through this primary season. We have a long road to November 4th, and as much as we have cleared the first hurdle, much bigger ones await the Democratic Party. Now, is the time that we must unite and fight to regain the White House and continue our control over the Congress. From now on, I don't want to hear an ill word spoken about another Democrat or even the current Republican administration. I want us to talk about our ideas and I am telling you that now is the time that we outline a clear, concise and unified vision of what a Democratic administration is going to do for the American people. It's time we lead by example, rather then rhetoric and soundbytes. So, when we hit the campaign trail starting tomorrow morning, let's hit it hard and let's make a real impact on this country." Nate looked around the room before concluding. "Let's join together as Democrats and as Americans and lets win this together as Democrats and Americans. Thank you." With that, Nate and Charlie headed back into the HQ as massive applause erupted on the campaign floor and the news-crews packed up their vans so they could file their story for the early morning news.


	6. Running Mates

_A/N: Alright, we've gotten a few reviews from readers demanding more Harm/Mac and there will be but we felt it necessary to outline a few problems we've been having to explain that the romance of this story will largely be in sub-plot form. In our previous offerings the goal of the story was to unite the two characters. Being as we accomplished this in the first story of the series, we have to try and draft original substantial plots to maintain our reader interest level. As such, secondary characters such as Sergei, Bax, Coates and Gunny will have more prominence. However, as the story progresses, storylines will merge (including Nate and Harm, the two main storylines) and other ones will end or lose prominence. All of this is meant to enhance the story and maintain our want to write and prevent a repetitive and stale plot as much as your want to read something of the same quality you have come to expect from us. Subsequently, with all these additional storylines, creating equal time for each storyline is exceedingly tough. We asked you to trust us at the beginning of "Three Wise Men" we ask you for that trust once again._

_A/N: We normally hate doing this, but we need to know if people really are interested in seeing this story continue, so please show us some love with the reviews. Pretty please? _

_Also Starring: Tommy Lee Jones as Senator Wesley Grier (D-TX) _

1423 ZULU, JUNE 12th

DEMOCRATIC NATIONAL HEADQUARTERS

CAPITOL STREET, WASHINGTON DC

Nate sat behind a desk in a temporary office at the Democratic National Committee. The chairman of the DNC had lent him the space for the morning and Charlie had provided him with a long list of names and he wasn't going to leave the office until he reached a decision on who his Vice Presidential nominee would be. He had names of people he wanted to pick, people he couldn't pick because they lacked legislative experience, or they weren't a registered Democrat or any number of multiple alternate reasons. Nate just started tapping the pen on his desk.

He hated leaving Peach alone while she was pregnant. That's why he hadn't, there was a the big Governor's mansion with the staff and both his mother and Mama DiPiccio there to take care of the boys while he spent the day in Washington on business. He hated being away from her but she told him that he had to, she had practically pushed him out the door the night before and he had spent the night –rather ironically- at the Watergate. He smiled as he thought of it.

Charlie was running himself ragged. Nate kept reminding him that he was just one man who bore a striking resemblance to Claude Rains in Casablanca. Charlie was doing his own fifty state tour trying to whip the state campaign teams into shape. No one, in Nate's opinion anyway, could run a campaign like Charlie could. Charlie had never run a national campaign, he had worked on both Clinton campaigns and he had worked with the Gore campaign that lost to Andrew Russell in 2000. Charlie had come to meet Nate through Peach who had worked with Charlie on all three of the aforementioned Democratic Presidential efforts. Now, Charlie was running a national campaign as much as possible with Nate adding his own little flavour to everything.

Now, as Charlie was doing a campaign swing through the Grain Belt, Nate was waiting on two top Democrats to join him for a long anticipated meeting to pick the man who might possibly be the next Vice President of the United States. "Senator Latham is here to see you, sir." The voice of one of the DNC staffers came through the intercom.

"Send her in." Nate answered. The door opened and Bobbi Latham came walking in just as Nate got up from behind the desk to greet her. "Hey, Bobbi." Nate extended his hand.

"Congratulations on winning the nomination, Governor." Bobbi answered with a firm demeanour that showed her purely business demeanour.

"Bobbi, I'm going to need your help picking a Vice President. Twenty-four governors and fifty senators are Democrats and all of them are prospective VP candidates. You know the Senators and I know the governors, if we have an open dialogue in this forum we might be able to arrive at a choice that compliments my own political stance and gives us a good enough ticket to defeat the Republicans in November." Nate concluded but before Bobbi could answer, the DNC staffer's voice mad its presence known over the intercom once again.

"Senator Young to see you, sir." The voice stated. Nate punched the button.

"Send him in." Nate replied, once again getting out of his chair to greet the other guest that was joining Bobbi and himself. Roman Young was a tall distinguished looking man who had attended the Air Force Academy and had indeed spent most of his life in his state of Colorado. He had been stationed at NORAD when he was in the Air Force, then he had been an airline pilot before running for the Colorado Springs City Council. He had done a term as the mayor of Colorado Springs before being sent to the Senate where he had spent twelve years and two full terms.

"Roman, nice to see you again." Nate shook his hand firmly.

"Mr. Governor, congratulations on a hard fought primary and on winning the nomination." Roman was very dignified as he shook Nate's hand.

"Take a seat, Roman. As I was explaining to Senator Latham, we need to bring together a united Democratic Party so that was can take back the White House. We've got seventy-four Democrats to pick from. We have to start weeding down the field." Nate pulled out copies of Charlie's list and handed them to the two Senators.

"First, we need to set a goal for this election. What do you want the result to be?" Roman Young jumped right in.

"I want us to win and I want us to win all the big states. I want us to carry California, New York, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Florida, Illinois and even Texas." Nate paused dramatically.

"Lofty ambitions." Bobbi sniped.

"Clinton came within five percent, if he can, we just need the right message and we can surpass his mark." Nate started. "Listen, the reason that the two of you are here is because you represent the two most prevalent wings in the party. Bobbi is one of our leading liberals and Roman, you're one of our most stalwart conservatives. What we need is a moderate bridge and that's what I want both of the candidates on our ticket to be."

"So, you want someone that I see as too conservative?" Bobbi asked.

"And someone I see as too liberal?" Roman followed up.

"_And_ someone who can help you win Texas?" Bobbi ended.

"Now, you've got it." Nate smiled encouragingly and the forum began.

1322 ZULU, JUNE 13th

RUN FOR THE CURE

WASHINGTON, DC

"Why are we doing this again?" Harm asked as the two of them prepared to start the marathon.

"Because you were ordered to by the Chief of Naval Operations and I'm the head of the Naval judiciary. This is something that afflicts Americans of all stripes and besides, your mother organizes the race out in La Jolla, so you kind of have to help don't you?" Mac asked as she stretched out before the race.

"Hello, sir." Bud appeared at Harm's side.

"Hey, Bud, been a long time since I've seen you." Harm gave his friend a pat on the shoulder. "Sorry, I haven't been over to the house for awhile."

"It's alright, sir." Bud answered. "With everything that's been going on, you've been pretty busy, sir. Everyone seems to feel a lot more tremors. We've been facing more Marine Colonels charged with taking things a little too hard and SEAL commanders with the same problems. They think something's coming."

"Something is coming. No one knows what, but after 9/11, everyone seems to be a little more in tune to what's going on." Mac interjected her opinion. "We might be ready for it this time."

"What though?" Harm asked looking at his wife.

"That's the question isn't it?" Bud answered, quick to jump the gun.

"Bud why are you running today, I thought after Jag-a-thon a few years ago, you'd had your fill of marathons?" Harm asked, having finished stretching, he placed his hands on his hips.

"Well, sir, breast cancer affects everyone and Harriet and I figured that this would be a good enough cause for me to dust off my sneakers and give it another go." Bud smiled in his own seemingly naïve way that Harm remembered from the first time that he had stepped on the Seahawk. This Bud Roberts was not the same one that he had first met thirteen years ago. This Bud Roberts was older, wiser with the look of a noble Navy man. His hair was now almost solidly silver despite his age.

"Bud, we should really talk a lot more. How about a barbecue over at Casa Rabb next weekend?" Mac invited with he typical charming smile.

"I think I could sell that to Harriet, ma'am." Bud answered with a chuckle. "She's been so busy with the boys, I think she would really like the chance to have fun with her friends."

"I think we all would." Sturgis appeared to join the group.

"Being the JAG not all that it's cracked up to be, Sturgis?" Harm asked with a fraternal chuckle just for good measure.

"So much paperwork." Sturgis said in his best horror movie imitation. "Before you ask why I'm here, Bobbi said that I needed to involve myself in more women's issues."

"Alright, where's she then?" Harm pretended to look around.

"She had a late night at the DNC last night, I figured it was probably wiser to let her sleep in." Sturgis cracked his knuckles. "Besides, having to compete against her is something of a dangerous proposition for me."

"Are all married men afraid of their wives?" The last member of the crew seemed to be here as Bax made his presence known.

"I have good reason." Harm threw his hands in the air. "My wife can kill a man with her bare hands."

"My wife is part of a Congress that has the power to declare war." Sturgis vouched for his reason. Bax turned his attention to Bud.

"My wife threatens to withhold sex." Bud answered and Sturgis along with Harm were both forced to nod their heads in agreement.

"Bud has the best excuse." Bax judged. "See, this is why I've never been married."

"I thought it was because if you so much as touched an engagement ring, it would have a similar effect as holy water has on Dracula." Harm joked.

"Well there's that part, too." Bax laughed as the organizers called for all the runners to go to the starting position for the run.

"Baxter, Turner, you're going down!" Harm shouted from his position in the pack to his friends thirty feet away.

"Just remember, Rabb, we were the best team of wide receivers that Annapolis ever saw!" Bax shouted back. The starter's pistol sounded and the run for the cure was on.

1839 ZULU, JUNE 12th

DEMOCRATIC NATIONAL HEADQUARTERS

CAPITOL STREET, WASHINGTON DC

Nate pinched the bridge of his nose. "Twenty-four Democratic governors and we were only able to think of three suitable VP candidates? Does that strike either of the two of you as being remarkably sad?"

"Governor Nash Harder of Ohio is a good choice, Nate." Roman Young coached, in reality, Young knew that had he won the nomination, Harder would have been his VP.

"He's a Democrat In Name Only." Bobbi intervened slightly aggravated.

"He's a friend of the blue collar workers in his state and he's conservative enough to help us win Texas." Roman shot back.

"Enough, the two of you." Nate decided to interrupt before this turned into a free-for-all. "Bobbi, who's your choice?"

"Governor Nolan McKinnon of Florida." Bobbi prompted.

"A tree hugger's tree hugger." Roman scoffed. "You'd be limiting yourself to only winning the blue states if you picked him."

"We're the Democrats, Roman!" Bobbi protested. "Words like progressive, liberal and tree-hugger aren't supposed to be insults for us."

"She's got a point, Roman." Nate had his head resting on his fist. "By the same token, I don't want this to be seen as the Blue Dog Democrat campaign or the Liberal Democratic campaign, this is the Democratic campaign, now let's pick a team for all Democrats."

"Who's your pick, Nate?" Bobbi asked.

"Governor Danny Proper of Iowa. He's got the positions to compliment my own views and he's got a fifty-one percent approval rating among Republicans in his home state." Nate answered.

"He also opposes the assault rifle ban." Bobbi once again felt the need to be heard.

"And the drilling in ANWR and the ban on Canadian beef after the BSE scare." Roman added.

"He's the Governor of Iowa, folks. Of course he's going to oppose the assault weapons ban, there are a lot of big game hunters in his state. He's going to oppose ANWR because more domestic energy lowers the necessity of ethanol production in Iowa and he's going to oppose the ban on Canadian beef because if we can do it to the Canadians what's going to stop some other country like Japan from doing it to Iowa farmers." Nate explained as he got to his feet. "Let's get some lunch."

"Orsini's take out?" Bobbi asked.

"I'll have them deliver." Nate picked up the phone and began dialing.

"Then we've got fifty senators to go through." Roman flipped to the next page in the packaged. He had done all this vetting when his campaign team had set out to start the primaries and his strategy was being worked out. No matter what he thought of Nate Ross, Roman Young was sure that he was sitting across the table from the next President and that thought made him regard the man, his junior in age by almost twenty years, with a great deal of respect.

"Let's eliminate a few people so that we can get out of here at a reasonable hour." Bobbi suggested.

"Alright, well I think we can eliminate anyone from New England in the interest of regional balance and I think we can eliminate anyone too far right or too far left. That should leave us with about thirty-two names." Nate slid the phone back into the cradle.

"Let's get cracking." Roman encouraged and the debate raged on.

1417 ZULU, JUNE 13th

RUN FOR THE CURE

WASHINGTON, DC

Harm had taken off like a shot, as had Bax and Sturgis which meant that after a few minutes, the three of them were leading the pack with an assortment of about a dozen others. They were three of the most competitive men in the world but that was to be expected after all. Bax was a good friend and he was always willing to baby-sit the kids when she and Harm felt they needed a night out.

She had made an effort to introduce Bax to available friends of hers over the last few years but nothing had taken. He was a Deputy Chief of Naval Operations. A guy with experience in special ops, surface and aviation warfare. He'd been the skipper on the Patrick Henry for two tours. Over the last two years, he had probably become Harm's best friend, after her of course.

Sturgis had been the last Chief of Staff under Admiral Chegwidden, a position that he took very seriously. Sturgis had become known as the Navy's chief hatchet man. He and Harm had renegotiated Status of Forces Agreements all over the pacific world. American Navy and Marine bases were back on Filipino soil for the first time since they had been closed down in the early nineties. And Sturgis had helped set up the Naval Prosecution Office in all Naval Legal Service Offices on foreign soil

After the 2006 Israel-Hezbollah crisis, Sturgis and Harm had once again collaborated to establish a permanent US military presence in the Eastern Mediterranean and after a series of negotiations, NAS Wilson had been established, on paper at least, on the southern coast of Cyprus. All this work and it had still taken Sturgis too long to get his first star, at least in Mac's opinion.

Well ahead of where Mac and Bud were running, the three former classmates of the USNA class of '85 were doing their adolescent best to one up each other. Sturgis was running well out in front of the pack and Harm had a couple of lengths on Bax who was gaining on him as every second passed. Bax caught up to Harm as the two of them hit the part of the race through the National Mall that took them around the edge of the reflecting pool. Bax turned around and proceeded to run backwards, sticking his tongue out at Harm.

Just as Bax was getting ready to turn back around he felt his heel strike something and he fell back into the reflecting pool and Harm went running passed, laughing his ass off. Bax thrashed around in the water for a few seconds before getting his wits about him again and trying to get out of the pool. "I heard you squids like water but this is a little much. Don't you think so, Ethan?" Nate looked up at the darkened form that was standing between him and the sun but he'd recognize the voice. Mac extended her hand to pull him out of the pool. "You know, you need a girlfriend or a wife or something, you get in way too much trouble for a single man in his forties." Mac chuckled as she and Bud helped Bax back along the way.

"What are you, in cahoots with my mother now?" Bax asked he slightly slowed his pace.

"You're a friend, I care about whether or not your life is what you want it to be." Mac and Bax were trying to keep pace with a slower Bud Roberts.

"I've got three stars, a pension and I could get a job with Boeing, Lockheed, Grumman or McDonnell Douglas any second I decide to get into the private sector." Bax stopped and leaned over with his hand on his knees propping him up. "Aside from all that, I am one boring, lonely middle-aged man." Bax got up and hit top speed in an effort to catch up with Harm and Sturgis.

0205 ZULU, JUNE 12th

US CAPITOL BUILDING

WASHINGTON, DC

Nate was back to rubbing his eyes. It had been a long day's journey into night and he was going to have to sleep on the plane ride back to Philadelphia but on the upside, he had picked a running mate. A three term Texas senator and liberal firebrand named Wesley Grier. Grier was a Texas liberal, which was a lot like an average liberal but with a fire streak that ran from stem to sternum in a bright crimson line. Nate had decided to head over to the Capitol to formally ask Senator Grier. Nate tapped on the door and waited for the Senator to answer.

"I'm coming!" The Senator shouted in his typical drawl. The door opened and Senator Wesley Grier, the senior senator from the state of Texas, was surprised to see the Pennsylvania Governor and Democratic Candidate for President standing in front of him. "Governor Ross, well hell boy, this is a surprise." The Texan chuckled. "You visiting all the Democratic senators in state alphabetical order?"

"Yeah, Tennessee was really rude to me." Nate joked still standing in the doorway.

"Well, come on in, Governor. Can I offer you a drink?" The Senator retreated behind his desk and Nate walked in and sat in a chair.

"You got any bourbon?" Nate asked.

"Son, you should know better then to ask a man from Texas a silly question like that." Grier reached back and opened his liquor cabinet. He pulled out two glasses and a bottle of bourbon. He poured both men a drink and pushed Nate's glass across the table to him. "You know, I served with your dad in 'Nam." Grier started. "I was just some young Marine sergeant and your dad was one of the most respected Marine Majors in the Corps."

"I didn't know that." Nate answered, not meeting the older man's eyes.

"Yeah, well that was ages ago, not like it makes a damn bit of difference now anyway." Grier paused for a second. "To General Jack." Grier raised his glass and Nate nodded.

"Hear, hear." Nate's glass clinked against Senator Grier's. "Listen, Senator, there's another reason I'm here. I've been talking with Senators Latham and Young and after wading through almost twelve hours of divisive Liberal-Blue Dog bullshit, I came to a decision."

"You're turning Republican?" Grier joked.

"No." Nate chuckled. "Wes, I want you to be my Vice President." Then it was as if some heavy veil had fallen on the room.

"That's a serious offer with the Republicans still in a three way race that can't be won until their convention. You've got a better then eighty percent chance of being the President." Grier ran his index finger over his chin. "Garner thought the Vice President's job wasn't worth a bucket of warm piss." Grier paused again. "Garner was a goddamn fool." Grier began to laugh. "Hell yeah, I'll be your Vice President." Grier reached across the table and shook Nate's hand.

"You've got to disclose everything about your life to the DNC, you know that right?" Nate sipped on the bourbon.

"Yeah, I know, but there's nothing there you'd need to worry about.." Grier waved him off. "This is the greatest example of balancing a regional ticket since Kennedy and Johnson. A Pennsylvanian and a Texan, hot damn, boy, we might just have something here."

1510 ZULU, JUNE 13th

RUN FOR THE CURE

WASHINGTON, DC

Sturgis and Harm neared the finish line. It had been one hell of a long run today, they were about seven hundred yards from the finish line and really starting to feel it. They heard the sound of rapid footsteps came up from behind them. For an forty-five year-old man Bax could really pound the pavement with his sneakers. He had caught up to them awful quick. Sturgis and Harm pounded the pavement even harder, determined to beat Bax to the finish line. Sturgis was still the long distance champ so the second that he really turned up his motor, Harm and Bax fell well behind him.

Now it was both of the Deputy Chiefs of Naval Operations duking it out for second place. The two of them were making pace for a run that they hadn't made since plebe year at the Academy. They were both getting winded really quickly. "You can't do it, stock-jockey!" Bax challenged.

"Eat my dust, SEAL!" Harm grunted back through gritted teeth. There was no way he was losing this race. Both men had to wonder what happened to how they were acting at the start of the race, they both had to wonder what happened to it all being for charity, to fight the good fight, to run for the cure like the pink ribbons on their shirts read.

Harm reached the finish line a half a foot ahead of Bax and was triumphant in all his second place glory. "I beat you!" Harm declared as he tried to catch his breath.

"Maybe, but I still outrank you, Rabb." Bax reminded his friend. "Besides, I got a rest halfway through the race, so I'm not going to have to drink a whole water buffalo just to be able to stay on my feet."

"No, you probably swallowed enough of the reflecting pool to quench the thirst of your old SEAL teams." Harm joked slightly as he gave Bax a pat on the back. "How far behind us were Mac and Bud?"

"About two or three minutes, no more then four. Bud's doing pretty well." Bax was still gasping for air. "Where's Sturgis?"

"Maybe he just kept on running. You know, pulled a Forrest Gump or something." Harm answered.

"That yeoman of his is one gorgeous woman, though, I tell you, I don't think I've ever been so tempted to inspect uniform decorum in my life." Bax chuckled.

"I'm telling you, Bax, don't go there, you'll only get yourself in trouble." Harm's eyes got even bigger. "I realize that you aren't the same guy you were at the Academy but hell, none of us are, Bax! You are the Navy and everyone at the fucking Pentagon knows it, hell I know, I never would have bet on it at the Academy but goddamn it, Bax! You know it all, you think like Nimitz and for once and for all there's something bigger and more important and beyond the end of your nose."

"Don't give me the shit spiel, Harm!" The two men walked through Rock Creek Park. "You have it all, man. You've got the career and you've got the beautiful wife and two great kids and the house in Arlington. What the hell have I got? An office in the Pentagon and I'm good at my job but I literally have the social life of a goddamn monk!"

"It means something to the over half a million sailors in the Navy to know you're there, Bax. There's some piece of mind to that. We all know that something's coming, we have a definable intuition and we don't know what. Hell, only the President gets more and better intelligence then you and I do and we still have no idea. How are you going to feel if the shit hits the fan and you aren't there to help us fight it off?" Harm reached out and took his friend by the arm and turned him to face him.

"Empty!" Bax fired back. "Actually, scratch that, I'll be working twenty-two hour days so I'll be empty and tired. If there's nothing bigger then this for me, then my life really is fucking depressing." Bax snapped as he threw himself down on the grass and sat back against the trunk of a tree.

"Bax, think about this for a second. Three stars, the second highest pay rate in the Navy. If you so much as ask Senior Chief Coates on a date, all of that gets called into question. If you have sex, you torpedo your career." Harm was into legal advisor mode.

"Not to mention torpedoing her." Bax added in a joke. "I just can't help but think about it Harm. You've got Mac, Sturgis has Bobbi, the boss has Peach; you're all living a great life. The only woman I have no real platonic or familial to that I've talked to in the last three months has been Jen."

"Jen? Wait, what happened?" Harm eyed his friend suspiciously.

"Nothing happened." Bax affirmed quickly. "Why would you think something happened?"

"Because you called her Jen, numb-nuts. I know Senior Chief Coates and the only people she lets call her Jen are her friends and people she doesn't salute." Harm stopped for a second. "Does she know you're a Vice Admiral in the United States Navy?"

"That's enough." Bax put his hands on the grass and got up. "This conversation is over."

"What did you say?" Harm called after his friend who was walking away.

"I can't tell you." Bax shouted back. "You would have to testify."

Harm rolled his eyes. He knew that Bax hadn't done anything yet but there was a possibility that he might. There had only been one time in that past that he had been this stupid, this reckless and this careless. Harm remembered it with all the terror that the image of a pissed off SEAL tended to bring. Bax was at the end of his rope and he was ready to let his Navy career hang.

1405 ZULU, MONDAY

MCAS CHERRY POINT

JACKSONVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA

Anna Ross walked into her office. There was a small contingent of F-18s at Cherry Point. It was the hub for the Marine Second Air Wing so SOUTHCOM felt that it needed a quarter of the Hornets that usually flew out of Beaufort in South Carolina. "Ma'am, you have a package on your desk." Her yeoman informed her as she walked into the inner office. She was the ranking officer in the Hornet squadron. An odd position for a Captain to have but considering the reorganization that the Marines were going through right now, it was not unheard of.

When she had gone into work on Mondays for the last week, there had been a gift on her desk. The gifts were usually accompanied by a phone call in the early afternoon. The phone calls were from the Senate hopeful Miles Cleary. Cleary was relentless in his pursuit, in what she would describe as her weaker moments of honesty with herself, she would say that she was flattered. She hadn't felt this sought after since the Academy.

She was frustrated. More then anything she felt that all her life she'd played the nun. She'd grown up in that kind of atmosphere. Her parents were religious, he brothers were taught that there were certain things that real men did and that there were certain things that good girls did and she had broken every one of those chains but the last one. There was something about promiscuity which struck her as unseemly.

Preston and Nate had both been what there dad would have called 'Manly men'. In their youth, they were warriors, they had an acuity of women that was shared by young men their age and still they toed the line long enough to ensure that they never so much as disturbed a grain of sand on the wrong side of that line. She envied them the liberal boundaries for she knew she had bettered their self control.

It was a testament to who she was that she could say at twenty-seven years old, she was still a virgin. Despite the leering looks of men when she was young, despite the advances of numerous boyfriends she had maintained that one thing. Most of the time when her thoughts wondered through this subject matter they strayed to a dashing young Russian-American SuperCobra pilot with a notoriously coy grin.

The pursuits of men and boys. That was her preoccupation. There were two conclusions she could draw at the moment. Miles Cleary, the young Democratic candidate for the Senate wanted her. He'd been telling her so for the last month. Sergei Rabb, the man she had known for six years, the young pilot, the man who had finished as the Midshipman-Captain of his class at the Academy, well what he wanted wasn't clear to her. Not that it had ever been and that was something that needed to be sorted out.


	7. Conventionally Speaking

1647 ZULU, MONDAY

DEMOCRATIC NATIONAL CONVENTION

ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI

"I can't believe how well we played the press on this one." Charlie and Nate chuckled as the stood up in the booth watching the crowd of Democrats slowly fill the Savvis Center.

"Just don't say that too loud." Nate chuckled as he took a seat. Peach was showing now, she was five months along after all and she and the boys were with him in the booth. The boys had taken to referring to the campaign director as 'Uncle Charlie', a term which he took with a usual affectionate grace.

"It was a stroke of genius boss. Placing two simultaneous leaks that had two very likely candidates as your running mate. I just want to know how you knew this wouldn't backfire." Charlie was on the edge of his seat.

"I didn't." Nate got out of his chair. "In fact, I was sure this would bite me in the ass. But I never knew my wife to ever steer me wrong before." He started to rub her shoulders.

"This was your idea, Nicole?" Charlie asked, now very surprised.

"I figured that if we put both Wes Grier and Danny Proper out there, the liberals would latch on to Grier and the moderates would pick Proper. The press would cover the competing rumours sharing their time between us and the Republicans who still couldn't pick a nominee. The only thing is, that when we announce Grier, we have to hope that the moderates accept him. My thought was that if we just announced Grier, we'd anger the liberals a little because they wouldn't see him as one of their own but moderates naturally should when you consider his record." Peach explained and Nate kissed the top of her head.

"The added bonus here, is that with a month until the Republican convention, we have a month where we can float good press about our ticket while the Republicans are still trying to pick a candidate and all the Running Mate suspense should give us a good bounce out of our convention." Charlie explained.

"I hated the first few days of the conventions, they just announce the ballot and then have speakers. It's only when the ticket gets announced and the candidates speak that has any real meaning." Nate said.

"Daddy." Little Jack tugged on his father's jacket.

"What's up, buddy?" Nate picked his son up.

"Mommy's gonna have a baby." Little Jack said with a wide grin.

"You told them?" Nate turned to face his wife.

"It's getting kind of hard to hide." She pointed to her ever expanding middle. "They also clued in that they were seeing a lot more of their grandmas when you weren't home."

"When did you guys get so smart?" Nate crouched down so that he was able to talk with all three of them at once.

"Gamma Ross has been making us smart, daddy." Tim answered and Nate suddenly felt a sickness in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't been home a lot in the last few months. He'd tried to take the boys with him when he could but there were times when he couldn't and it would be easier on them to stay in Harrisburg. He had made it back for their fifth birthdays on May 28th and he had stayed for two weeks until he had to head to Washington for the meeting with Latham and Young, then he was home for another month before he'd had to spend two weeks out on the road stumping before the convention.

"Guys, you start school in the fall and they're gonna make you real smart, just like your mommy." Nate flicked Brad on the nose. "But this summer you get to take a bus trip across the country and you're going to get to see a lot of cool stuff."

"Will we get to see the Grand Canyon, dad?" Little Jack asked and Nate nodded.

"How about the place where the rockets are?" Nate was pretty sure Tim was referring to Cape Canaveral.

"Yeah, you'll get to see all of the cool places, guys." Nate smiled.

1849 ZULU

SOMEWHERE OVER THE NORTH CAROLINA COAST

"Clancy, this is Hooter, you got a visual?" These kinds of exercises with the chopper brats from New River were bland and SOP but it gave Anna an excuse to screw with Sergei's head.

"That's a big negatory good buddy, wherever those snakes are, I can't find them." Clancy was Anna's tail-man. His real name was Lieutenant Tom McGraw but his call-sign was a result of the fact that he always seemed to be carrying a Tom Clancy book around. The reasons for Anna's call-sign were hanging from her chest and as much as any other woman would have thrown a red-light, Anna just took it as if she was one of the guys. She found generally that the less she expected special treatment for being a woman, the more accepted she was in the air wing.

"Alright, Clancy, I'm gonna try a sweep over the ridge. My gut tells me that sneaky little Rabb is hiding." Anna chuckled into her radio. "Stick to my six, Clancy."

"It's not as pleasant a view in the air as it is on the ground, Hooter." Lieutenant McGraw laughed.

"Look but don't touch, Lieutenant." Anna teased as she guided her Bug just above the deck and the trees toward the ridge. Sure enough as, they got to the ridge, the Cobras rose above the treetops and Sergei painted Clancy, Anna took evasive action and brought her bug into a steep climb to avoid being painted by the Cobras weapons system.

"Where did she go?" Sergei asked.

"Beats me, Rabb." Sergei's CO Major Woods answered.

"Better catch her,_ Ivan_; you don't want to get painted by some flying skirt." Sergei's GIB was a Staff Sergeant who had tagged him with the unfortunate call-sign of _Ivan _in honour of his Russian heritage.

"We'll keep on her, sir. There's another Bug out their somewhere and we'll track them." Sergei took the Cobra off toward the beach where the Bugs had come from this time, hoping to conceal his own whereabouts and get a good view of any approaching Hornets.

Back up around Angels 15, Anna Ross was regrouping with another member of her squad. "Damn, Johnny-Reb, they got Clancy. I should have known that was a trap!" Anna groaned.

"Just stick on him, Ross. He's got to slip up sooner or later." Captain Jonathan Ricker 'Johnny-Reb' – so called because he'd spent four tours on the _Stennis_ - pulled into formation. "I'll draw him out this time; you make sure you paint him before he paints me." Johnny-Reb dove out of the clouds like a wild hurricane, he inverted his bird over the water and showboated, just taunting to Sergei to try and get him Sergei raised his bird out from behind the trees to give chase to Johnny-Reb but he never saw Anna come out of the clouds after her wingman and as such, he got tagged by the Hornet's weapons system.

Anna opened her UHF frequency so Sergei could hear her. "Looks like you owe me a case of beer, Rabb."

"Lucky shot." Sergei jibed back as he headed to the base.

"Hey guys, I just painted Major Woods, we can head back to the base now for the debrief. This is Johnny-Reb signing off." Anna and Sergei watched as Captain Ricker did a barrel roll before heading back toward Cherry Point. "Hey, Hooter, you know why I hate landing on land as opposed to a carrier?" Johnny-Reb asked as they neared the runway.

Why's that, Reb?" Anna asked with a smile on her face.

"There's just too much damn runway!" Johnny-Reb hit the pavement, landing gear down, and taxied down the runway to a stop with Anna following a few minutes behind him. Anna climbed out of the cockpit and down on to the pavement. Her wingman walked over to her. "There's our very own Marine Hooters girl." Captain Ricker laughed.

"Damn, Johnny-Reb, you smoked them!" She gave him a high five. Anna and Ricker had graduated from the Academy together. If theirs was a four person group, the other two were Mikey Roberts and Sergei Rabb but as it was, Hooter and Johnny-Reb would be inseparable if given the choice. Sergei liked Ricker, the two of them had played on the Annapolis hockey team together and brothers on the ice were as close as you got to being brothers, at least that's what the coach had drilled into their head.

"Hey, Johnny." Sergei walked over to them.

"Fancy flying, Ivan." Ricker shook Sergei's hand. "But I outgunned you."

"I'll get you next time." Sergei challenged. "Anna, you're sweating."

"You wear a cockpit, Rabb. Didn't your brother teach you that?" Anna unzipped the top of her flight-suit and tied the sleeves around her middle. The white cotton tank top she was wearing underneath was soaked with sweat in a 'V' pattern around the neck. Sergei's eyes were immediately drawn to her breasts, so were Ricker's but Johnny-Reb wasn't the kind of guy to be obvious about that kind of thing.

"Did it just get hotter out?" Ricker looked up at the sun.

"Yeah." It was the only word Sergei could get out. Anna caught his line of sight.

"See something you like, Rabb?" She asked, taunting him, trying to get an answer.

"I think what he likes is still covered, Hooter." Johnny Reb chuckled. Anna had to laugh. Captain John Ricker was a classic kind of guy, like something that flew into the Marines out of an old movie. He was almost as tall as Sergei's brother if not just a wee bit taller; those kind of men literally had to wear a cockpit, he had reflexes like a cat on caffeine and always a joke on the tip of his tongue. He bore a passing resemblance to a young Harrison Ford, something Anna had noted upon first meeting him. This covered up the fact that of all people to graduate from the academy, he probably wasn't the most sparkling academic. "Come on, we have to get back to the ready room to debrief. I imagine that the Colonel is going to rip Clancy's ass for getting painted by a Cobra while flying an F-18."

2117 ZULU

DEMOCRATIC NATIONAL CONVENTION

ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI

Danny Proper had graduated Summa Cum Laude from the Harvard School of Business. That was after he's spent four years wrestling for Iowa State. He'd been the Governor of Iowa for six years, and he was closely linked with the brand of Democrat that currently used Nate Ross as its figurehead. He'd gotten to know the Pennsylvania Governor at the meetings where all the governor's gathered at the White House. He knew that Nate Ross wasn't the typical photo op and talking point kind.

He also knew that Nate had never talked to him about this whole running mate thing. So now he was pacing outside the private box at the Savvis Center waiting to talk to the man that a lot of the delegates were beginning to refer to as 'Jefe'. Nate eventually opened the door and let Danny in, thinking that he had stewed long enough. The two men took seats opposite each other as they watched the speaker count off the delegates for the first ballot.

"Nice to see you, Danny. How are Ashley and the kids?" Nate figured small talk was probably the best way to go here.

"They're in good spirits, a little high strung and a little curious, as I imagine we all are, considering the suspense CNN has built up around the convention." Danny intermeshed his fingers.

"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that. Danny, it literally came down to a coin toss between you and Wes Grier." Nate paused. "That was back in early June, I needed their to be a reason for there to be real attention paid to the convention so people would actually hear what we're saying and the suspense of an unknown running mate was a good idea. And creating this suspicion around you and Grier was the only way I was going to get the liberals in the party to back a Texan."

"Well thought out." Governor Proper had to admit.

"I'll tell my wife you approve." Nate chuckled.

"This was Nicole's idea? I was told she was good at this political game." Danny Proper chuckled.

"Danny, I need you to do something for me." Nate leaned forward in the chair. "I want you to announce Grier on Thursday. I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm prepared to compromise. If we win in November, I'm willing to offer you Secretary of the Interior."

"Secretary of Energy." Proper pushed, wanting to be able to help the ethanol sector that had gotten him elected twice. "I don't want to be in Des Moines forever."

"Secretary of the Treasury." Nate offered. "I read the opinion papers you wrote on the state of the Federal Reserve. You know what you're talking about and I need someone who knows what they're doing when they deal with the economy."

"Deal." Danny reached across and shook Nate's hand. "For the record, I think we would have made a hell of a team."

"We still will, Danny. Treasury's an important job." Nate and Danny stood up and Governor Proper left the room. Nate huffed and took a seat, looking out into the arena as the boys came in from the attached suite waving chocolate bars in the air.

"You pumped them full of sugar?" Nate asked as he saw his pregnant wife com waddling in behind their children.

"What did you expect me to do? I'm five months pregnant, chasing them around isn't exactly an option." She complained and he walked over and kissed her temple.

"I know, honey." He whispered in her ear as he hugged her. "They say campaigning is the hardest part of the job."

"If you get pulled out of the residence at 0300 to deal with an international crisis, I think that might be tougher." She laughed as the two of them decided to watch a movie with the kids.

2154 ZULU

MCAS CHERRY POINT

JACKSONVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA

"Just how in the hell did you get painted by a Cobra, McGraw!" Colonel Fowler shouted at the top of his lungs.

"I got led into an ambush, sir." McGraw answered.

"Captain Ross was able to get out unscathed, how is it that you were less fortunate in that regard, Lieutenant?" Fowler's face was maroon and his square jaw looked like it could bite through granite.

"I believe I can answer that, CAG." Johnny-Reb volunteered, his testicular fortitude was obviously feeling amplified this evening.

"What do you think Lieutenant McGraw's malfunction is, Captain Ricker?" Fowler walked down to face the squad XO.

"Simple, CAG, McGraw's got no experience. Ross and I have flown ops in the pacific and the gulf. We know how to keep our cool when it hits the fan. McGraw panicked." Johnny-Reb was gnawing on a toothpick.

"Is that your assessment, Captain Ross?" Fowler moved to stand in front of the squad leader.

"McGraw's a good pilot and a good Marine, sir, but he could use some seasoning with an air wing on an LHA or maybe in the pacific. Johnny-Reb knows his stuff." Anna answered, still at attention in front of her CO.

"I concur." Fowler began to pace in front of his officers. "It takes a lot more then just your training to master these birds. I would suggest that this squad pay close attention to its senior officers. Captain Ricker," Fowler was still old Corps so the man went first in his book, "did four tours flying Rhinos off the _Stennis_. Captain Ross did two tours on _Stennis_ and a tour on _Abe_ where she participated in an armed exercise against North Korean destroyers. She's also been put through the gears at Miramar so when either she or Ricker talk, I suggest you," he paused, "hot shots, check your egos at the door."

"Aye aye, sir." The squad replied in unison.

"Good, now get out of my sight. When we do these drills next month, I will personally ship any Marine who gets painted by a Cobra out to NAS Reykjavik, is that understood?" There were nods and Fowler left the room.

"That is one tough, grizzled, SOB." Anna let out a heavy breath.

"Come on, you go tag up with Rabb at the O Club. I'll put the guys through the drill." Johnny-Reb gave Anna a pat on the shoulder before rounding up the Marines and heading at a jogging pace, out the door. Anna walked out the door of the ready room, across the base toward the O Club. She missed the carrier, but she wasn't going to get battle group assignments all the time. It was good for her to lead the Hornet squadron at Cherry Point. The CAG was an old Harrier pilot and he oversaw everything but the squad was hers with Johnny-Reb acting as her adjutant.

Anna pushed open the door to the O Club and saw the friendly Russian Rabb sitting at the bar nursing a shot of Stoli. "Waiting for me, Marine?" She asked as she parked herself on the barstool next to him.

"I reckon so." Sergei had been working on his impression of a southern accent.

"Getting better, you need a to call someone 'pilgrim' before you really get it though." Anna chuckled. "You know what vodka does to your liver?"

"I'm Russian, our livers can swim through vodka." Sergei answered. "You want to go for a walk, Anna?"

"Sure." She nodded and smiled. The two of them got off their barstools and headed out the door. They walked in an almost companionable bevy of small talk as the kept the runway to their right. Anna tried to catch every admiring glance and lustful look that Sergei tossed her way. They were few and far between. She turned her face down and focused on her feet. The two of them reached the end of the run way and stood facing each other.

"Anna, what is wrong?" Sergei asked.

"I'm tired, Sergei." She answered.

"It's only 1700." He informed her after consulting his watch.

"Not physically, I'm emotionally tired." She hung her head again. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be a woman?"

"No." Sergei shook his head, now slightly confused.

"I'm starting to think that I don't either any more." She added a self-deprecating chuckle. "You know when the last time was that any man worth remembering gave me the slightest idea that he saw me as a woman. And I don't mean the juvenile references to my chest."

"I was reminded today when you did that flight-suit thing." Sergei blurted out.

"You shouldn't have to be reminded." She tossed at him. "I figure you would notice all the time."

"Why is that?" Sergei asked, suddenly even more confused.

"Because I notice you!" Anna shouted. "I notice you, alright? I notice that you're smart, that you're talented and that you're handsome but I practically have to take my top off to get noticed."

"I never asked you to." Sergei picked what he thought was the least arguable point.

"Yeah, you never would!" She was just venting it all by now.

"Anna." Sergei's tone took on an edge of warning.

"Why not?" She asked.

"Because we can't, because it has risks." Sergei explained.

"In life, Rabb, a lot of things have risks. To you, I'm apparently not worth the risks in this case." She turned on heel and headed back down the runway toward her quarters. Sergei decided to head back to the O Club and wait for Johnny-Reb he was sure his old buddy would be stopping by eventually anyway and if not he could still call his brother.

2315 ZULU

BIG MOE'S COFFEE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Senior Chief Petty Officer Jennifer Coates sat at the table in Big Moe's. A few months ago she had met a man, an old friend of Admiral Turner's, his name was Ethan Baxter. He was a nice enough guy compared to most of the men that she had dated. She wasn't technically dating him as it was. They just went out together and talked, or hung out or did the typical friend kind of thing. Sure, he was older then she was, a lot older in fact but that wasn't something that she really had a problem with. She knew that he had gone to the Academy with Admirals Turner and Rabb but she'd never seen him in uniform so she just assumed that he was no longer with the Navy.

She saw him come through the door at the other end of the coffee house. He was the typical way he was whenever the two of them went out some place. He seemed to get along with everyone, a natural magnetism and energy that seemed to draw people. It had certainly drawn her like a fly to honey. He shook hands with the large African-American gentleman behind the counter who's large fluorescent orange name tag read 'Big Moe' in bright lime green letters.

"You'd think you were running for Congress with all those hands you shook." Coates remarked with a coy smile as Big Moe brought the two of them some coffee.

"Bax, man, I got to tell you those Wizard tickets you got me was off the hook, brother!" Big Moe placed the cups on the table.

"No prob, Moe, catch you later." Bax smiled as he tapped fists with the owner. "And as to what you said earlier, I leave the politics to an old boss of mine who's running for President."

"Really, who?" Jen's eyebrows almost shot through the roof.

"Ross, the Democrat." Bax explained as quickly as possible.

"So, you used to work for the State Department?" Jen guessed, putting together what he had previously said with what was generally public knowledge.

"In a manner of speaking." Bax said knowingly, he scratched his temple nervously with his index finger. "That's actually what I kind of wanted to talk to you about." He paused and put his hands around the coffee mug in front of him. He was obviously deep in thought, something heavy weighing down on his mind. Jen reached across the table and covered his hands.

"Ethan, deep breaths and pace yourself." She coached in a warm comforting tone.

"Even if it's bad?" He questioned, finally chancing to look into her eyes.

"Is it illegal?" Jen asked suddenly fraught with concern, despite only knowing Ethan for a couple of months, she still felt the want to help him.

"No, it's not illegal. Frowned upon but not illegal." Bax was now starting to use language right out of the Naval Officer's Guide.

"How frowned upon?" She asked, hanging around with lawyers tended to make one naturally inquisitive. Bax was trying to tell her, he was trying to find a way, but there were no words, he couldn't bring himself to admit that he had lied to her - a lie of omission still being a lie – he reached into his pocket and pulled out his military ID and tossed it on the table. Coates picked it up and read it to herself. There was no instrument known to man which could measure her shock.

"Jen, I'm really sorry." He went to reach for her hands in a comforting gesture but she pulled them away from him as if she'd been burned.

"Damn you." She muttered under her breath. "Damn you." She got louder and tears began to form in the corners of her eyes. "Damn you." She said in a voice slightly louder then normal before storming passed him out of the coffee shop. Bax quickly hopped out of his seat and headed after her.

"Jen wait!" He called, she was halfway across the parking lot.

"Why?" She snapped at him. "What could you possibly have to tell me?"

"How about that you still have my ID?" He flashed a smile at her and slowly approached her to get the item back. He reached out his hand to take it. Their fingers touched and an impulse of electricity ran through them. "Jen, I'm sorry."

"For what, _Admiral_?" She emphasized his rank.

"Don't do that." Bax's voice was noticeably soft an coaxing.

"Don't do what, _sir_?" She asked, wisely playing dumb.

"Don't try ignoring what's been going on between us by hiding behind rank." Bax informed her. In one corner of his mind, he heard Harm's voice telling him that he should be letting her back away, in the other, the voice that told him that spending time with Jen the way he had over the last few months had been one of the few things that made his social life bearable.

"My apologies, Admiral, not all of us are in positions in the Navy where we can blatantly disregard regs." Jen was still angry and she wanted to hang on to that she couldn't give in.

"Square up, Senior Chief." If she was going to play this game, then he would let her know that no one could quite play it the way an Academy ringbanger could. "Now, why can't you be honest, with me the way you have been for the last few months."

"Because it's a risk, sir." Jen answered, once again a tear slipping down her cheek. "It's a risk to know all this and still want to be just Jen and Ethan, friends with that little hint of chemistry. It's a risk for me and it's a risk for you, it's a bigger risk for you because it could destroy everything you've worked for."

"I wasn't going to ask you for anything, Jen, I just figured you had a right to know." He took her hands between his in an effort to quell her trembling.

"It was easier when I didn't." She sniffled. "It was easier for me to see this successful, older man who had taken such an interest in me and just wonder. You know my history with men, to have finally maybe found someone like you was too much for me to hope for."

"Hope." He whispered, the two of them were too close now and that little Harm voice in Bax's head died out. He placed his index finger under her chin and tilted her head upward. Their lips met in a quick, soft kiss that soon began to spiral.

"Bax, man, you forget to pay your bill!" Big Moe came storming out of the café and he saw Bax and Jen kissing in the parking lot. "Forget it, man, brother got to break himself off a piece of _that!"_ Big Moe turned and headed back in his coffee shop, tearing up the receipt along the way.

"This is wrong." She whispered when first broke apart.

"I know." He replied, within seconds they were kissing again.

"I care about you." He ventured when they parted again. "Too much to drag you into this."

"_You're_ not dragging _me_ into anything." She whispered before capturing his lips again and pulling him, by his tie, into her car.

0202 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Deputy Chief of Naval Operations (acting) Harmon Rabb was sitting at his desk in his study hunched over reports from Naval Intel. Anything that was even remotely suspicious was being analyzed to death now. Harm was the expert on Chinese Naval expansion. With their acquisition of Hong Kong nearly a decade earlier, the Chinese maritime intention seemed to drift south toward the South China Sea and even toward the Indian Ocean. Of course, when it came to the Chinese military, their Navy was the least potent threat but they were fast learning that it was the premier means by which a nation projected its power. Chinese air power and armed power had only one rival in the East Asian theatre and that was India. Luckily for the US, India's Navy far outweighed that of China and the power projection of an Indian aircraft carrier far outweighed that of its Chinese counterpart.

The phone rang in his study and Harm picked it up. "Rabb." He greeted.

"Brother, I believe I have come down with what your beautiful General refers to as the 'Sydney Syndrome'." The voice was Sergei's and it was rushed. Harm pinched the bridge of his nose and rolled his eyes. In a way, he should have been expecting this, in a way, he was hoping his brother would be smarter then he had been. Who was he kidding? Men didn't evolve, right?

"Slow down, Sergei. What happened?" Harm asked, rubbing his temples in his best AJ Chegwidden impersonation.

"I think she was trying to tell me that she wanted me, or that she wanted me to examine her breasts, I'm not really sure. All these years and still some nuances of your culture escape me, brother." Sergei shook his head from side to side.

"We are talking about a certain Captain in the Marine Corps, right?" Harm was just double checking.

"No, we're talking about Anna, who did you think I was talking about?" Sergei asked, slightly confused. Harm had to roll his eyes and chuckle.

"Sergei, tell me exactly what happened." Harm coached his little brother.

"She claimed that I didn't see her as a woman, and I stated that there were times when it was hard to not see her as a woman. She then stated that she had no problems seeing me as a man and that she shouldn't have to take her top off to get noticed by me." Sergei's voice was getting frantic again.

"She took her top off?" Harm's voice went up an octave due to the surprise.

"No, she wore a sweat drenched, white tank top." Sergei answered and Harm suddenly nodded his comprehension. "I told her that we couldn't. We both fly for Second Air Wing, it's fraternization, is it not?"

"You're right, it is." Harm affirmed. Damn it, he thought, there were times that fraternization seemed way too out of touch with the modern military. He was forced to remind himself that the old arguments in favour of it still held some weight and could not be ignored however. "What happened then?"

"She said that some things are worth the risk." Sergei finished with a heavy sigh. The girl had cut his brother to the quick. She was right, some things were worth breaking the rules for, but you had to be damn sure and from what Harm had observed, his brother liked being a Marine too damn much. "What do I do now, brother?"

"Technically, you can't do anything." Harm had to pause, this news really sucked. "Navy regs say she gets the last word on this topic. Realistically, you pray someone cuts her transfer orders to a carrier outside the Second Air Wing and then you do your damnedest to get her if that's what you want."

"Brother, your outlook on the future is bleaker then a Russian winter." Sergei joked. "Thanks anyway." The Marine Lieutenant hung up the phone. All things considered, Harm thought, not as bad as it could have been.

0341 ZULU, THURSDAY

DEMOCRATIC NATIONAL CONVENTION

SAVVIS CENTER, ST.LOUIS, MISSOURI

_"This is Brian Holliman reporting for ZNN, live from the floor at the Democratic Convention here in St. Louis. It is absolute pandemonium here at the DNC! Tonight, Presidential Candidate Nate Ross announced three term Texas Senator Wesley Grier as his running mate ending weeks of speculation that floated back and forth between Senator Grier and Governor Proper of Iowa. Governor Proper initially took the stage tonight and was greeted with cheers from some of the crowd but there were murmurs and scepticism from many Democrats. When it was found that the Governor was merely announcing the two candidates, the arena erupted. _

_In a week that saw the Democrats outlining a clear and concise vision for the future of America, the questions still abound about the Republican nomination. Even more curious, is the fact that the current Russell administration and the Republican Party in general were never even mentioned this week at the DNC. The Democrats took the week to focus on their vision. In his speech tonight, Governor Nate Ross never even mentioned the three Republican candidates, in a move many pundits see as an effort by the Democrat to put himself above the fray and in a position as the natural successor to President Andrew Russell. _

_The Democrats are riding a wave of momentum that looks to be getting bigger as Election Day draws near. The question GOP strategists have to be asking themselves is: 'What do you do when trapped between an unstoppable Democratic force and an immovable object like a November 4th election? They'll spend a week at their August convention trying to sort that out. For ZNN, this is Brian Holliman reporting live. _


	8. Georgia On My Mind

Bax looked over at the sleeping form of Jennifer Coates next to him. He ran his hands through his hair. He always did it after they had sex. The same words would enter his head. This is wrong; this is what it feels like to live on borrowed time. He stared at his summer white uniform intently. There were three white stars on the yellow background of his shoulder-boards, even to the most novice of recruits, that insignia meant that he had achieved something. Something that his own loneliness, his own desperation had put at risk.

He looked at her again. The way the long strands of her brown hair fell softly against her tanned back. The trust that she had placed in him, the trust that they had placed in each other, the secrecy, the deceit, the questions and the wondering if it was really all necessary. There were a few people he wanted to talk to, he needed advice, and he needed someone without a moral pulpit. Harm and Sturgis would both tell him that he was crazy. Keeter was too bloody self-absorbed to really give a damn.

So there he sat, his back against the headboard, hands in his hair and his head hung down. He looked up at the other side of the room where the door still hung open, neither of them had bothered to close it on their way in. He looked over his right shoulder and ran his fingertips over the scratches in the headboard that her fingernails had made a little more then an hour ago. Bax wasn't an idiot. Regardless of the opinions of those who preached the gospel according to Michael Moore, you didn't graduate from the Academy and attain three stars by having more balls then brains. That only got you your first star.

He knew a few things. He knew that what they were doing was without a doubt, very illegal. He knew that the fact that they didn't serve in the same command made it unlikely that anyone would notice, much less report anything. He also knew that if they were really discrete it was unlikely that any one would find out. He knew that with minimal risk to exposure, they could carry on for months. That didn't make him feel any better. He extended his index finger and lightly traced the contours of her back. Jen lightly stirred and turned to face him.

"You're thinking about it again." She murmured as she raised her head up off the pillow and perched it on her open palm.

"It's hard not to." Bax admitted. "It's hard to do this and not think about what it all means."

"What does it all mean to you?" She edged closer to him.

"A lot of things, it means I could lose my job and it means that if I don't want to lose my job I have to let go of you. I don't want to sacrifice either." He wouldn't look at her. "It scares the hell out of me."

"Why?" It was too late for her to ask a more complicated question.

"Because it means I'm falling in love with you." He answered as if on impulse. "I haven't been in love for a long time." Jennifer Coates froze. An Admiral? A three star Admiral, graduate of Annapolis and former Skipper on the Patrick Henry had fallen for her? If only Conrad Coates could see her now. She knew what it all meant. It was eventually going to come down to her career or hers, that might be some time down the line but it was still coming because it Senior Chief Petty Officer Jennifer Coates was being honest, she had fallen for him too.

1505 ZULU, MONDAY

THE PENTAGON

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Deputy Chief of Naval Operations (acting) Harmon Rabb Jr. strode the halls of the Pentagon that day. With the President, Vice-President and Secretary of Defence all in Atlanta for the Republican National Convention this week, the cat was away and the mice were given free run of the Department of the Navy. They had certain set limitations of course. They couldn't declare war, order nuclear strikes or charge take out pizza to the Navy credit card but other then that their limitations were pretty open. Then again, almost all Naval exercises were planned out months in advance, so even if they wanted to have some fun, it would take months for it to be realized and by that time, it would have been altered beyond all recognition. But then again, just getting the politicians out of the Pentagon was a victory, if only a moral one.

"What have we got, Bax?" Harm asked as he caught up with his old Academy buddy in the hallway.

"Long day's journey into night." Bax answered.

"What have we got on tap this week?" Harm asked that he opened the large oaken door that linked his office to Bax's.

"Barris is out of the office and all the top elephants are at the GOP summit in Atlanta so one of us has to head down to Norfolk and King's Bay to perform three. VCNO, already spoken for the Philadelphia dedication of a Halsey class." Bax tapped his pen.

"What's Barris out of the office for?" Harm asked, referring to the CNO.

"Colonoscopy." Bax answered simply, trying to avoid eye contact.

"We're dedicating Halsey class boats already, I thought they only ordered the boats in 2002?" Harm looked confused.

"Yeah, that's how it works with amphib boats, six years from order to commission. The _Bull Halsey _and _Robert Kennedy _are due for launch this week. This is the result of that big boom in recruiting for the Navy and Marines we had at the end of '04 and the beginning of '05." Bax explained as he looked over the numbers.

"Which dedication is the VCNO taking?" Harm asked.

"The _Robert Kennedy_." Bax finally looked up at Harm. "You want to flip for the _Halsey?_ Loser gets the sub in King's Bay?"

"Give Turner the sub." Harm goaded. "It's the _Clinton_, right?"

"USS William Jefferson Clinton." Bax nodded with a smile. "Give the bubble his day, right?" Harm flipped the coin into the air and Bax called tails on the way down.

"Tails." Harm rolled his eyes. "I get stuck here doing paperwork while you get to go dedicate the lead ship of the new amphibs? How is that fair?"

"Simple, I'm the three star, I have to go and help with the dedication." Bax laughed openly and then quickly returned his eyes to his work. The two of them reviewed sitreps from PacFlt most of the morning until Harm's yeoman brought in some news.

"Sirs," the petty officer started, "the two of you have been selected to run the Captain's selection board for O-6 candidates. SECNAV Sheffield wants to see the two of you right away."

"Thank you, petty officer." Bax, being the ranking officer dismissed the yeoman

"Alright, let's go talk to the politician." Harm got out of his chair and he and Bax headed for the Secretary of the Navy's office. It had always seemed odd to Harm that the Secretary of the Navy would have his office at the Pentagon in Arlington while the Chief of Naval Operations, a man in a chair once held by Nimitz, King and Burke, was across town in the Washington Navy Yard. The walk to the Secretary's office was one that they'd both made many times before. Sheffield was more of a diplomat then Nelson had been when he held the post. Sheffield was able to understand that his job was not to run the Navy, his job was to oversee a Navy that could in most ways run itself. The CNO had direct contact with the President, so did most of the commanders of the Pacific and Mediterranean fleets and anyone in the upper echelon at NMCC. The Secretary of the Navy was an administrator, plain and simple but he made real use of the OpNavs office to ensure that he was an effective administrator.

They got to the office of the Secretary of the Navy and tapped on the door. "Come in, gentlemen." Sheffield was drinking already, it was early in the morning, but he didn't care. Harm suspected that a lot of Republican livers would be floating this week that and Alka-Seltzer sales would skyrocket in Atlanta. Harm took a seat across the desk from the Secretary of the Navy while Bax elected to stand.

"Gentleman, we've had a particularly rough season in the Pacific." Sheffield started. "We shuffled the Atlantic fleet a couple of years ago, so all the skippers out there are midway through the average command term but in the Pacific, the skippers of the _Connie, Nimitz, Tarawa _and _Essex_ all tendered their resignations."

Harm knew this, he had taken all their resignations personally at the end of their sails in the pacific. The loss of four of the Pacific fleet's most experienced skippers was more then just the average blip in the radar. "The OpNavs office was aware of this a few weeks ago, sir." Harm answered.

"Yeah, well the two of you are pretty smart, there's more then just those two; you've got to commission skippers for the two new super-amphibs that are being dedicated this week." Sheffield wiped off his glasses. "The President has directed me to tell you that in the case of the amphibs and Connie, it is considered suitable to promote surface warfare officers rather then aviators."

Harm understood what Sheffield was saying, it was something that had been done before of course; Fleet Admiral Bull Halsey and Harm's own best friend, the current Vice Admiral Ethan Baxter were two examples, of course, in both cases, the two Admirals had to undergo Naval Aviation training and earn their wings before assuming commands. Placing surface warfare officers in charge of the Navy's chief source of power projection was a radical change. "I'm not sure how wise that is, sir." Harm started.

"If you are unable to find any suitable aviators, Admiral, you have no choice. They will be subject to Naval Aviation training at Whiting Field, if that limits your worrying." Sheffield took another sip of his drink.

"Somewhat, sir." He didn't like it, it was part of a Naval aviator's pride that only they were thought suitable to assume command of the Navy's most powerful vessels.

"Good, Admiral Baxter, you'll chair the board, Rabb you'll be his vice, I want the list of six on my desk by noon next Monday, understood?" The SECNAV was unflinching.

"Aye, aye sir." Harm and Bax came to attention before leaving the office. The two men got about ten steps out of the office of the SECNAV before Harm reached out and took Bax by the arm. "What the hell is up with you? Politicians make a unilateral decision about the future of naval aviation and command in the Pacific fleet and you don't even have an opinion?"

"What did you want me to say, Harm? I'm sorry, Mr. Secretary, but does the President have his head up his ass on this one? Do I look like a moron, Rabb?" Bax pulled his arm free and kept walking.

"No, no, that's not it. If you were at the top of your game, you would have said something to persuade these guys not to ruin the Navy but you just took it on the chin. What's up?" Harm stopped dead in front of his friend.

"Nothing, Harm, I'm sure that among the thousands of Commanders in the Navy and the hundreds of whom who have aviation experience we will be able to find six who are worth assuming these commands which makes this whole conversation moot anyway." Bax ducked passed Harm into his office.

"See, this is what I mean, normally you're able to make a case for your point of view against something you don't like but you might as well have been one of the heads on Easter Island in Sheffield's office." Harm stood in the doorway.

"It's nothing." Bax was really annoyed by this point. "Now would you just back off, we have to convene the board this afternoon and I have to call the VCNO and tell him that he has to dedicate the _Halsey_ and the _Kennedy_ this week. You call Turner and tell him to haul ass down to King's Bay so he can get the Clinton underway."

"Aye, aye sir." Harm shot sarcastically, acknowledging that when a three star shutdown debate, even if he was your best friend, you were in no position to open it up when you only had one star.

1612 ZULU, TUESDAY

INTERSTATE 95

SOUTH CAROLINA – GEORGIA BORDER

The Democratic campaign was well into its first swing that was being dubbed "The I-95 tour". They had started on the campaign bus in Maine about a week after the convention had wrapped up and here they were three weeks later about to wrap up the two with their last two states: Georgia and Florida. Nate was sitting on the couch in the bus with his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up playing with his kids and their G.I Joes with one hand and using the other to add lines to the speech he was due to give when they stopped at his first campaign stop.

Because the Republican convention was being held in Atlanta this week, campaign etiquette dictated that Nate avoid visiting Atlanta until they left. Nate had visited Parris Island and given a talk with the recruits the previous day in South Carolina. It had been one of the events that the Little Jack and Brad enjoyed most. Nate's son Tim wasn't the same kind of gung-ho type that his brothers were. He seemed to have his nose almost perpetually in a book, even at his young age it had taken nothing for his parents to be able to teach him to read. The kid had read every Disney book in his collection several times.

"Timmy, why don't you go play with your father and brothers?" Peach asked her son.

"No play, reading." The child answered simply as he flipped a page. Simultaneously, Little Jack had defeated Brad's forces with an Air Strike by his plastic F-18. Nate had to chuckle as he watched his son try to regroup his force of G.I. Joes behind their tanks. _Oh Lord, what have I done?_ He thought to himself with a chuckle.

"Hey boss." Charlie opened the door to the back living quarters on the bus. "Got the latest in from the RNC." Charlie took a seat on the couch across from Nate.

"Hey Uncle Charlie!" Brad smiled at his father's campaign manager.

"Hey, Brad, what are you and Jack doing?" Charlie asked, momentarily humouring the child.

"Playing war, Jack bombed my troops." The child sounded defeated.

"Brad, all you have to do then is…" Charlie was about to delve into instruction.

"Hey! No helping!" Little Jack intervened.

"Charlie, they're _playing_ war, they're not planning the invasion of Iran." Nate joked as he returned his pencil to the page.

"Right, what was I talking about when I came in?" Charlie looked slightly confused for a second.

"RNC, Charlie." Peach prompted.

"Right, they just finished the second ballot this morning. A delegate needs to win 1,255 delegates to win the nomination." Charlie leaned back.

"Who's the closest?" Nate asked.

"Both Senator Brent Wayne and Governor Lloyd Heller are about three hundred delegates away from the nomination which puts Vice President Hunt about six hundred delegates away." Charlie answered.

"Looks like George Hunt is going to have to wave goodbye to his Presidential ambitions." Nate chuckled. "Any dark horse candidates? Draft signs going up on the floor?"

"Are you expecting there to be?" Peach looked at her husband.

"After picking Wes Grier as my running mate? Yeah, I'm expecting them to pick someone from Texas, Oklahoma or Louisiana to shore up their support in Texas and Louisiana." Nate looked across the bus at Charlie.

"Nothing yet, my guess is that when chaos ensues after the third ballot, Hunt is counting on his leadership and his experience to work in his favour when all the delegates go crazy." Charlie explained. "What's our worst case scenario?"

"Lloyd Heller wins the nomination and picks Brent Wayne as his running mate. Heller locks up the Republican base and having Wayne on the ticket makes him seem progressive when he's really just preaching the same old, same old." Nate explained as he rolled the pen around in his fingers.

"Limits us to a few swing states like Ohio, Colorado and most of the southwest." Peach added as she finally took a seat next to her husband. "We did a pretty good job in Florida during the primary so we may not have to worry there but we also have to look at the Mississippi line, specifically Missouri, Louisiana and Arkansas."

"You hear the woman, Charlie? Those are the states I want to hit when we're done this swing down I-95. If I'm not there, you get in touch with Wes's half of the campaign, you tell him to make sure he's in one of those states." Nate directed. "He's got some real credibility in the south and the people of Texas love him, he's the only Democrat that they consistently send to Washington."

A staffer came into the back from the front of the bus and whispered something in Charlie's ear before returning to the front of the bus. "What was that about?" Peach asked, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Apparently, one of our volunteers down in Camden County, Georgia was attacked last night. Sonarman Second Class Jimmy Sykes was coming home late from one of the local chapter's fundraising meetings when he was ganged up on, beaten brutally and hung from a tree. The Camden County Sheriff showed up before Petty Officer Sykes died but he's recovering in base hospital at King's Bay." Charlie explained as he loosened his tie.

"I want to visit the Petty Officer." Nate said almost without thinking about it.

"I thought you would, I had the staff tell the driver to take us right to King's Bay. We should be there around five o'clock, we'll hit Savannah later in the week before going to Florida." Charlie nodded. "Boss, the local sheriff and King's Bay JAG said this stunk of a Klan kind of thing."

"Klan? I thought we got rid of them back in the eighties. What the hell makes them think this had anything to do with the Klan?" Peach intervened yet again, taking her husband's hand.

"Petty Officer Sykes had the 'N' word on a sign that had been stuck to him during the attack." Charlie concluded as he got to his feet and headed back up to the front of the bus.

"Daddy," Tim asked, "what's the 'N' word?"

"Something you should never ever say." Nate took on his best Ward Cleaver tone. "It's so bad, your Mommy and I have never said it." Nate watched the amazement grow in his son's eyes. It was the truth, in his days in the Corps, he had dressed down anyone who addressed a fellow Marine in such a pejorative manner. He knew he had to do something about this and as the bus pressed further on into Georgia, his mind formulated a plan.

1746 ZULU, MONDAY

THE PENTAGON

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"Alright, this promotions board is being convened for a special purpose, and that is, to revitalize the Pacific Fleet. We have four retiring skippers and two new super-amphibs. All of these ships need Captains and the task has fallen to us to find them. Admiral Baxter will be chairing this board and I will be serving as vice chair. In front of us are seventeen candidates as composed by the fleet commanders at COMLANTFLT and CINCPACFLT. Let's begin." Harm was as proud as a peacock, he saw a few familiar names on the list when he reviewed it. He was pleased to see Tuna, Skates, Mace and Painter near the top of the list.

"Alright, being as her file is at the top of my pile, why don't we start with Commander Elizabeth Hawkes." Bax opened the file and the projector brought a multimedia image of Skates' personnel file to the screen in front of them. "Admiral Rabb, says here that Commander Hawkes was your RIO, why don't you fill us in on her?" Bax looked down the table at Harm.

Harm got up from his chair and stood in front of the board yet again. "Commander Hawkes has an excellent record. She's been a RIO onboard the Seahawk, the Patrick Henry and on Gipper during her last tour as a RIO." Harm paused and returned his eyes to the page. "For the last two years, she's been the Air Boss onboard Abe and she served with distinction when Abe confronted those two North Korean destroyers a couple of months back. She's the proud recipient of a DFC and a Navy-Marine Corps Commendation." Harm finished his presentation.

"Says here that she took a dunk in the tank in early '01." One of the Captains piped up.

"Yes, sir, but that incident was attributed to extreme weather and system malfunction, Captain." Harm answered, his familiarity with the incident and his own role in it adding to his conviction.

"What was the plane doing up in the air in any case, Admiral?" The Captain pressed.

"I think the matter was settled by a board of inquiry, Captain, if you're so interested in it, look up the transcript at Naval Archives." Bax interjected on Harm's behalf.

"My apologies, Admiral, I'm just of the opinion that a good RIO can keep any plane that belong in the air, in the air." The Captain answered.

"Captain, the archangel Gabriel couldn't have kept that plane in the air." Harm answered. "Does anyone have any other issues?"

"I have one." A two star raised his hand. "The question is going to be raised somewhere along the line anyway, are we really ready to put a woman on the bridge of a carrier?"

"Funny thing is, Rear Admiral." Bax once again jumped to Skates' defence. "The Enemy doesn't really care if the person on the bridge has a schvatz between their legs when they try and blow the carrier out of the water. So, keep your questions relevant." Bax watched his third star make use of its remarkable silencing effect again. "Register your votes for the promotion of Commander Hawkes to skipper of the Connie, now, using the keypads."

Four votes of 100 and one vote of 75 registered for Skates. She had passed, they would recommend her to command the USS Constellation. Harm let out a heavy breath, this session wasn't going to get any easier. There were a few more before Harm would likely be called on to present the cases for Tuna and Mace back to back. Painter was at the bottom of the pile, they wouldn't get to him likely until tomorrow. Damn it, today was going to be long.

2134 ZULU, TUESDAY

KING'S BAY NAVAL BASE

CAMDEN COUNTY, GEORGIA

Nate was off the bus and walking across the compound, shaking hands with officers and enlisted alike as he made his way toward the infirmary and the one man whose support of his bid for the Presidency had nearly gotten him killed. The Base CO, a shorter upbeat Captain had come to meet the bus and was now walking alongside the Presidential candidate Nate was all business, he had formulated a plan on what he was going to do while the bus took them through Georgia. He had sent a few of his staffers off to gather information as he prepped this stop. It wasn't enough to just make a speech, there needed to be a firm hand settling this situation and with one call into President Russell, Nate had the full permission to use one.

Of course, Nate hadn't divulged the full details of his plan to the President, both men were still political animals and while the President would have had no policy grounds on which to deny the request, he might have done so just for political purposes with the Republican convention this week. Peach and the kids were on his other flank while Charlie was in tow. There was no doubt about Nate's mission as he set his first foot inside the infirmary.

"Which one is Petty Officer Sykes?" Nate asked the Lieutenant who was in charge of what Squids so dubiously called 'sick bay'. The Lieutenant pointed to the bed at the end of the aisle on the right. As Nate headed down the centre aisle, the other men in the beds sat up to look on in awe.

"Hey Jimmy, you got a visitor!" One of the other men called and Sonarman Sykes turned to see Pennsylvania Governor Nate Ross standing at the foot of his bed.

"Heard you got roughed up protecting my rep." Nate's face held a sombre tone as he introduced himself.

"Yeah, well it took five of them, sir and they took some pretty rough hits before they got me." Sykes grunted. "You really come all the way down here to see me, sir?"

"I was a Marine, Sykes, you work for my campaign, that's just like being in my brigade and I never left a man from my brigade behind while I was in the service." Nate answered as he took a seat next to the bed.

"That's awful nice, sir, I realize you're busy, the schedule at headquarters said you were going to be in Savannah tonight." Sykes was still slightly curious.

"Sonarman, you serve in the United States Navy, if I didn't come down here to see you after what happened, then I sure as hell don't deserve your vote or anyone else's for that matter." Nate answered, finally chancing a grin. "I also figured that I could give you something as a token of my appreciation and as a get well present." Nate reached into his pocket and pulled out a baseball. "One of your buddies told me that you were from Maryland. I figured I should give you something you could appreciate." Nate lightly tossed the ball at him. Sykes turned the ball around and read the name on it. "That ball is signed by Cal Ripken, I got it off a homerun he hit at Camden Yards one day."

Sykes was shocked, this ball wasn't some small token like a signed picture or a get well soon card, it was something that was obviously of real value. "I don't know what to say, sir."

"Just get well soon, your skipper's going to want you back at your post onboard a boomer when you leave port next." Nate shook Sykes' hand. "Semper Fi, Sonarman."

"Anchors Aweigh, sir." Sykes replied as Nate got up from his chair and headed for the door of the infirmary. For all his talk, he knew that he wouldn't feel any better until he did something about this situation, he only hoped his staffers were good enough to find out some information for a plan of action.

"Staffers just reported back in. They've got time, place and backup, Governor. We'll be good to go." Charlie had the same determination in his eyes as Nate had. Civil Rights had been a big thing in his family. His grandfather had spoken with President Truman about desegregation of the military and had been one of the Truman's biggest supporters when that executive order was signed in 1949, six years before Brown .v. Board of Education. His father had marched with King in the sixties between tours in Vietnam and anyone would tell you that General Jack Ross hated a racist as much as a rapist and as much as a murderer. There would be defining moments in every campaign, Nate wanted to make this his.

0124 ZULU, MONDAY

THE PENTAGON

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

The promotions board had taken small break for about a half an hour. Harm had just made the presentation of Mace's record and Mace had been voted up by the board of promotions for command of the USS Nimitz and by extension the Nimitz carrier group. A third of their task was done, they had already pinpointed the two people for the command of the carrier groups and in Harm's opinion, Bax had made the right assignment recommendations.

As Harm blinked hard and shook his head out in the hallway, he was met by a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Working hard out here, sailor?" Mac asked as she crouched down next to him.

"Hey, what are you here for?" Harm looked very surprised; he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"My husband is running very late." Mac started coyly. "My children are with their Uncle Matt and I have come to collect my husband." Mac grabbed him by the arm and picked him up off the ground. "I was expecting you home a little more then two hours ago."

"Promotions board is running long, honey." He leaned over and kissed her temple. "We need to get it done this week and I'd like to put it out of mind. We're halfway through the list of candidates and a third of the way through assignments."

"Harm, promotions boards often run longer then one day, why don't you put an end to it for tonight. I rented us a movie and I even picked up a sexy new dress that I think you'll like." She rubbed the tip of her nose lovingly against his cheek.

"Mac, I don't have the power to do that, I'm just the Vice-chair of the board." He lightly kissed her forehead. It was late at the Pentagon, most of the folks had left for the day and the hallways were relatively deserted so some affection was not entirely inappropriate.

"I have that power." Bax was now standing above them. "I just told everyone to go home and catch some shut eye, Harm. Head home with your wife; I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning." Bax shook Harm's hand before heading down the hallway himself.

"You ever get the feeling that you and your friends are like the Rat Pack?" Mac asked while roping her arm around Harm's waist as the two of them walked out of the building. "You know, you're Dean Martin, Sturgis is Sammy Davis Jr, Keeter is Peter Lawford and Bax is Sinatra."

"Hey, wait a minute, why does Bax get to be Sinatra?" Harm whined as they made their way to Mac's car, Bax having picked Harm up for work as per the usual routine.

"Well, Dino was the more stable, more honourable kind of family guy; that's more your cup of tea. Bax is Sinatra because he's more of the womanizer, gallivanting type. Besides, you yourself just referred to him as the 'Chairman of the Board.'" Mac giggled a little at her last comment.

"Chairman of the _promotions_ board." Harm corrected. "But you still present a pretty damn good case, counsellor." He kissed her cheek.

"Just wait until we get home." Mac tossed with a quick perk of her eyebrow. "What are you guys doing that is so important that you were willing to work through the night to get it done?"

"Reorganizing the Pacific Fleet." Harm rolled his neck on the headrest.

"Be serious, Harm." Mac rolled her eyes at him. Harm raised his eyebrows to her in the one way that she always took to understand that he was in fact being serious. "Isn't that the job of PacFlt?"

"It would be, if they weren't running a joint-ops war game with the Indian Navy right now." Harm answered. "There are four skippers retiring in the Pacific and we have the two new super-amphibs being launched this week."

"So, you've got to appoint skippers and CAGs?" Mac ventured as they turned on to their street.

"That's the deal. We've got the USS Constellation and the USS Nimitz done. All the CAGs were assigned today, we've got four more promotions to hand out though, that's where the muck gets thick." Harm groaned as Mac parked the car in the driveway. "We struck a blow for equality. We put a woman on the bridge of the Connie."

"Really, who?" Mac's eyes were now wide with curiosity.

"Skates." Harm answered. "She had a good record."

"The Connie's also only got two tours left in her; she's the oldest carrier in the Navy." Mac reminded him. "I think you might have got a consensus on that one simply because it's unlikely that Connie will be in the thick of anything. You know as well as I do that she's due for a cruise in the Virginia Capes and COMCARIB, that will probably be her farewell."

"It's something, Mac." Harm answered.

"It took an awful long time to get it, Harm and it's not much." Mac and Harm continued their bickering into the house.

"It's the bridge of a carrier and it's a battle group, Mac." Harm pressed his argument.

"That will never see battle, Harm." Mac shot back. "Let me ask you this, who did you put on the bridge of the Nimitz?"

"Commander Jack Mace." Harm answered almost as though he were testifying.

"Why not give him the Connie and give Skates the Nimitz?" Mac asked.

"Because Mace is a pilot, he's been in the thick in Afghanistan and over Serbia, he's highly decorated and he's got the right attitude." Harm answered. "Mac, I don't want to talk about work." He walked over, snaked his arms around her waist and began kissing her neck. "I want to spend a little time with my wife."

"Harm, we still have to talk about some things." Mac answered trying unsuccessfully to ignore the sensations Harm was causing.

"Later." Harm said as he moved up to that special place just behind her ear.

SAME TIME, MONDAY

BAX'S APARTMENT

CRYSTAL CITY, VIRGINIA

Bax dropped his bag off next to his door and hung his cover up on the hat rack. He could always tell when she was in his apartment because her cover would be hung up too. It seemed to symbolically show the juxtaposition of the relationship, seeing the cover of a Vice Admiral next to that of a Senior Chief Petty Officer on a hat rack. He walked into the kitchen where he saw her standing in front of the microwave wearing a white tank top and a pair of his California Angels boxers. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, after which she proceeded to fall back against his chest.

"I missed you today." He said as he kissed her hair.

"Why today more then any other day?" She asked as she turned in his arms to face him.

"Maybe because of this morning." He answered as he kissed the end of her nose. "How was your day, Jen?"

"I spoke with Admiral Turner about OCS today just before lunch." She said in a voice just above a whisper as she brought her hand up to run through his hair. He turned her around and went to work on her neck.

"What did Sturgis have to say?" Bax asked quickly before returning to his task.

"He asked me what I intended to do as an officer in the Navy, I told him that I was halfway through my psychiatric training and he said that once I graduated, he'd be more then happy to give me a recommendation." Jen threw her head back as he continued.

"Sturgis is a bit of a hard ass." Bax kissed he collarbone. "But he's alright. Are you sure you want to take OCS?"

"I want you, the Navy says OCS is the only way I can have you." Jen replied quickly.

"Anything else happen today?" Bax asked and Jen felt his hands under her shirt and against her back.

"Your parents called." She said and felt him stop. "What?"

"That's not funny." Bax replied.

"They really did call, Ethan." Jen turned to face him again. "They're coming to town next week and they want to stop by for a couple of visits."

"Golf Season." He muttered under his breath.

"Golf Season?" Jen questioned, raising her eyebrows.

"It's August, my dad always plays golf in the capes in August." He wiped his forehead. "I guess since they're getting up there in years, I just never thought that they'd be visiting this year."

"Is this a big deal? I mean, I only told your mom that I was your friend so that she wouldn't call back with a laundry list of questions." Jen had never seen him this frazzled before, and considering the fact that their current relationship violated the UCMJ, he had plenty of reason to be frazzled recently.

"This is a big deal, for a couple of reasons. First, do you have any idea how long it's been since my parents met one of my girlfriends? A little more then twenty years." Okay, he was asking and answering his own questions, this was bad. "Second, my mom is Jewish, I know that's not supposed to be a big deal, being as she married my dad, who isn't but she still has the whole theory of no woman being good enough for her son and she can be pretty ruthless."

"She seemed sweet on the phone." Jen started but she got cut off.

"She sent three of my girlfriends home crying in high school. Three! I think she could get a confession of anything out of anybody." Bax ran a hand through his hair and began pacing the kitchen floor. Jen's anxieties were already getting the better of her. She'd had a hard enough time recently trying to convince herself that she was good enough for a man who was as good to her as Ethan was. Now, she was going to have to face up to his mother. A woman who apparently would nit-pick at her past and even criticize her likely for getting involved with a senior officer and endangering her son's career, oh yeah, next week would be a treat. She watched as he stopped pacing. "What am I doing?" He asked aloud before crossing the floor quickly and taking her in his arms. "I didn't mean to heap all this on you."

"I know." She lightly ran her hands over his back. They always said that relationships were a lot of work.

"You think we're ready for this?" He asked as he stepped back slightly and took her cheeks in his hands.

"I think if you would face a Flag Mast for me, I can face your mother for you." Jen answered as she pulled him in for a tight hug.

0213 ZULU, TUESDAY

SOMEWHERE IN CAMDEN COUNTY

SOUTHEAST GEORGIA

The Campaign Bus led the long convoy of vehicles down the rural road toward where Nate's staffers had found out the gathering would be that night. In the last couple of hours, Nate's staff had briefed him on the history of the Klan since 1980 and despite dwindling numbers, they were still active and apparently, some factions were still violent. He had also learned that in Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi and Louisiana there had been reports of co-operation in such activities between Klan members and local neo-Nazis. On the whole, it was something that made Nate sick to his stomach.

The Press bus had insisted upon being a part of this even though they didn't know what was happening, whatever the Democratic candidate did was news. The bus pulled off to the shoulder of the road and Nate got off, flanked by his Secret Service agents who had repeatedly tried to dissuade against this activity. Nate had his jacket off and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. He's had the convoy of vehicles turn on their high beams and point them at the fiery cross in the middle of the field. Nate had male staffers, Secret Service and local law enforcement along with the Fire Department along with him

"Well looky here, boys! We got us that Nigger-loving Yankee boy from up North." One of them men in hoods proclaimed. "Say, what you doin' here, boy?"

Nate stepped forward and looked the man in the eye. "Putting an end to this farce." Nate stepped back. "Chief!" Nate called for the Fire Chief who handed him the nozzle end of the fire hose. Nate and the Chief manned the hose and watched the water come pulsating out, putting out the now flame-charred cross and simultaneously igniting the fury of the men who had lit it.

"Just who the hell do you think you are, boy!" The one man demanded as he marched toward Nate. Nate didn't answer, he just stood their defiantly. "I ought to whoop your ass for that!" Nate approached the man and showed him the tattoo on the inside of his forearm. There was an eagle, globe and anchor and the letters USMC in an arch below the emblem.

"Anytime you think you're man enough." Nate practically growled through gritted teeth. "But until then, I have a list of charges for you boys. Actually, sheriff Jennings has them, Sheriff why don't you tell these idiots what they're charged with."

"Sure thing." The African American Camden County Sheriff stepped up. "Y'all are charged with assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder and arson now being as y'all started this fire on Farmer Milton's land." The deputies stepped forward and arrested the men. "Oh and by special authority of the Federal courts, y'all are also to be charged with violations of civil rights laws and for encouraging the growth of domestic terrorism under the Patriot Act. Y'all have a nice day now." The Sheriff smiled at the men as they were shut away in the paddy wagon.

"Thank you, Sheriff." Nate shook hands with the sheriff.

"I didn't do it for you, Mr. Ross. I just was hoping that Georgia was finally passed all this shit and it broke my heart to see we weren't." The Sheriff answered.

"Thanks all the same." Nate replied. Nate walked back to the bus, the press were expecting some kind of response from the Ross camp after the attack on a supported in Camden Country but they weren't expecting this. "I'll take questions in the morning." Nate commented as he climbed on the bus. "Charlie, what ballot are the Republicans on?"

"Fourth, boss. It's a two way race, now. Heller had to drop out." Charlie answered.

"A front runner had to drop out? Why?" Peach asked as she came out from the residence at the back of the bus.

"Didn't disclose an out of court settlement with a young staffer from his first gubernatorial campaign." Charlie answered. "Most of his delegates went to Hunt but enough went to Wayne to keep the race close and prevent Hunt from soaring over the top."

"They need a dark horse in order to get a candidate." Nate theorized. "If the dark horse comes in just to the left of Hunt, then he takes votes from Hunt and Wayne and he becomes the candidate. If he comes in on Hunt's right, then he takes half of Hunt's delegates and the other half will get scared and they'll run to Wayne making him the candidate."

"Not bad either way, boss." Charlie thought as he took a seat up front with the staff and tried to go to sleep as the bus took them back up the Georgia coast toward Savannah.

1435 ZULU, TUESDAY

THE PENTAGON

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

The Promotions board had reconvened for the day. Harm noticed that Bax seemed a little different today. His friend was a little more on edge then normal, a little more authoritative then normal and a little more like an old salt then was usual for someone their age. It was Harm's turn to present a case this time for Tuna. "Admiral Rabb, it looks like it falls to you to present a case for Commander Medwick." Bax dropped his copy of Tuna's file on the desk in front of him as the multimedia version appeared on the screen in front of the board.

"Commander Terry Medwick has experience in the Mediterranean and he has one tour over Afghanistan to his credit. He's got one DFC from his time in the Med and a bronze star from his time over Afghanistan wherein then Lieutenant Commander Medwick redirected an entire Surface to Air Missile battery away from his strike force." Harm began but one of the Captains on the board interrupted him.

"There's no doubt that he's a capable pilot, Admiral, I believe the question before this promotions board is, is Commander Medwick capable of being responsible for the lives of a little more the 4,200 sailors? The job of a skipper on one of these new Halsey class amphibs is a sailor who is responsible for an MEU, a Marine Air Wing, hospital ship personnel and Navy Air Wing personnel. Is Commander Medwick that kind of officer in your opinion, Admiral?" The Captain pressed.

"I believe he is, Captain. When I flew with Commander Medwick, he always upheld the highest standards of what it is to be a Naval officer. I think he's fit for a command." Harm answered.

"I say we put it to a vote." Bax tossed his pen down on the folder in front of him. "Using your keypads, register your votes on the candidate for promotion." Harm returned to his seat to vote for Tuna's promotion. The votes came up on the screen with every member of the board registering 100 percent. "Alright, it is the recommendation of his board that Commander Terry Medwick be promoted to Captain and be given command of the _USS Robert Kennedy_." So, the promotions board went through the rest of the day and they filled the remainder of the billets making the necessary promotions.

Harm paid close attention to his friend all day, watching carefully and observing that his friend was clearly acting out of sorts but they had a job to do after all and confronting this problem would just have to wait until after that job was done.

1647 ZULU, THURSDAY

KING'S BAY NAVAL BASE

CAMDEN COUNTY, GEORGIA

Admiral Sturgis Turner had just finished making the dedication of the _USS William Jefferson Clinton_ _SSN-780_. He stood out on the pier and watched the distance as the _Clinton_ submerged for the first time. He was told by the OpNavs office on Monday that he was going to be at King's Bay for the dedication anyway and now he also had the investigation into the Sykes case which he had co-operated with local authorities on. Now, the Judge Advocate General (acting) of the United States Navy stood on the pier at King's Bay and watched the next generation of submariner take to sea.

"It's always amazing to watch, isn't it?" Nate asked as he came up beside Sturgis.

"I never get tired of it." Sturgis turned to greet his company. "I saw that little stunt you and local boys pulled with the fire hose the other night."

"Something needed to be done." Nate shrugged his shoulders.

"So, it wasn't just political posturing?" Sturgis asked. "You're really trying to make things right."

"Sturgis, what sickens me is that after all this time, things aren't right. Lord know they're a hell of a lot better then they were fifty years ago but when stuff happens like what happened to Sonarman Sykes, it makes me just as sick as it makes you." Nate answered as he too began to look out to sea.

"I know, it's just tough, I thought we stopped seeing colour." Sturgis answered.

"Most of us have, that's why you and I work for a US Government that has a Justice Department to throw racists in prison." Nate cracked his knuckles.

"Comes dangerously close to infringing on the first amendment in some cases." Sturgis commented. "The ACLU might have a bit of a problem."

"The ACLU has a bit of a problem with everyone; we can't use them as a barometer on acceptable behaviour." Nate chuckled. "And that's almost treasonable for a Democrat to say."

"This shouldn't be a Democratic/Republican issue; it should be a right/wrong issue. My dad says you've definitely got his support in the next election and you've got mine." Sturgis shook Nate's hand. "Do the country proud, will you? Or I'll have to help Harm lead the coup."

"Will do." Nate chuckled as he headed back toward the campaign bus. Sturgis believes honestly that he had just shaken hands with the next President of the United States and that alone was enough for his day. As Nate climbed on the bus, Charlie was there waiting for him.

"Boss, do you know Chet Adams?" Charlie walked behind his boss toward the back of the boss.

"Yeah, very conservative Governor of Vermont that has puzzled everyone in the country by being twice elected as a Republican governor of what is supposed to be the most liberal state in the union." Nate answered as he took a seat next to his very pregnant wife on the couch.

"Yeah, well he's now the front-runner at the Republican Convention." Charlie threw himself down across the white carpet aisle from Nate. "Vice President Hunt only has about 140 delegates left."

"What ballot are they on Charlie?" Nate asked, slightly frustrated and slightly amused that the Republicans were going into the last night of their convention without a nominee.

"Just finished the sixth, boss." Charlie answered. "What are you thinking?"

"That the last 140 delegates will run to Senator Wayne and make him the nominee, he'll have to pick Governor Adams as his running mate and we'll be faced with a swing state and blue state Republican ticket against a swing state and red state Democratic ticket." Peach contributed before Nate had the chance. Her husband put a reassuring hand on her belly

"I'd trade Vermont for Texas anyday of the week and twice on Sunday." Nate replied.

"Boss, I just got word from my friend in the Wayne camp over at the RNC." Charlie covered the mouthpiece on his cell. "Wayne locked down the last 140 delegates. He's the Republican nominee."

"Well, here we go." Nate shook his head.

2130 ZULU, TUESDAY

THE PENTAGON

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"Bax, what the hell is up with you today?" Harm chased his friend down the hallway toward the parking lot.

"Not now, Rabb." Bax used his best Vice Admiral voice to dismiss his old friend.

"Bullshit, not now, Baxter!" Harm raised his voice. "We've been friends for twenty-seven years and you're grumpier then hell. Now, I want to know why." Harm stood between Bax and the car.

"Trust me, Harm, you really don't want to know." Bax pushed passed him toward the car. "I don't pry into every detail of your life."

"No, but you were there when I needed your help, even though I tried to get you to fuck off. As I recall, I even popped you in the jaw once." Harm answered as he opened the door on the passenger side.

"Right, when?" Bax asked as he started the car.

"You remember when Mac was suffering from postpartum depression after Tommy was born? You helped both of us through it." Harm explained. "Like it or not, Bax, you've probably helped me along more than I'd normally willingly admit."

"So?" Bax tossed caustically as his classic Ford Mustang pulled out into the Arlington streets.

"So, I know you're going through something, it's obviously something big, and I'd like to help." Harm gave his friend a stern look.

"Harm, you're going to want to trust me on this one, you really don't want to know and I'm not going to tell you. If you knew, it would only further complicate things, you're right, we've been friends for twenty-seven years, and it's because of that that I'm not going to involve you in this." Bax turned the corner on to Harm's street.

"Is it illegal?" Harm ventured and Bax said nothing, he just kept his eyes square on the road. "Bax, I expected better of you."

"I didn't kill anyone, steal anything, sell drugs, sell guns or rape anyone, so don't give me that high moral pedestal." Bax shot venomously.

"Well then what the hell _did _you do, Bax?" Harm asked as he opened his door.

"Nothing, nothing that should be illegal anyway." Bax threw the car in reverse and began to back out of the driveway. "Harm, for your own sake, just stay out of it."

Harm watched Bax pull away in his car. He was a little disappointed both in his friend and in himself. He had a pretty good idea what his friend had done. He was disappointed that his friend had broken regs and disappointed that he obviously hadn't been a good enough friend for his long time friend to trust him.


	9. The Week the Parents Came to Town

The day started like most others at the Rabb house. "Hey kiddo, time to wake up." Mac crept into her daughter's room and gently stirred the little girl's shoulder.

"Mom, don't wanna wake up." Sasha groaned as she held the pillow over her head. Mac really hated not being able to stay at home with her kids more. It was one of those things where she found that as she grew older, the Marine Corps wasn't the only thing she really knew any more. She knew in all honest terms what it was to be a mother. That, to her at least, was one of the greatest joys of her life. A life which had, since last November, been stuck in a weird transition.

When Harm had been between assignments for the last few years, basically serving as an all purpose officer for the Federal Government, he'd had more time with the kids, which had made Sasha very close to her father. But with his job at the Pentagon as a DCNO, their lives had been made a little more inflexible. Her time on the bench gave her regular work hours and between the time the kids spent at either AJ and Bev's, Uncle Matt's or with Harm's folks (when they were in town) the kids were never in the charge of someone they didn't have a close personal connection with.

"Come on, get up lazy-bones." Mac goaded her daughter. "Nanny and Pappy are in town this week. Remember?" That got Sasha's attention, the young child bounded up out of bed like a lightning bolt.

"Nanny and Pappy!" Sasha ran out of her room toward the kitchen. Trish and Frank really did spoil their grandchildren but it always made their visits enjoyable. Mac's mind drifted back to work, it was intensive but she was always in by nine and out by five and for any duty station in the American military, that was a good schedule. She still really wanted to be at home with her children; she always said that if she was ever going to be blessed with kids, she wouldn't be a weekends and evenings mom and she was worried, that was what she was becoming.

Resigning her commission. It wasn't the first time the thought crossed her mind. She had a pension, a good one; she was after all a Brigadier General and the Navy's Chief of the Judiciary. The inevitable competitive streak rose up in her, why should it have to be her career and not Harm's, after all, he was technically the same rank but he was a one star currently sitting in a three star billet. And they said that temporary stations in the Navy had a way of becoming permanent. Harm might only be a one star at the moment but that was likely to change and with that change came a tidy increase in pay.

Resigning her commission. She would have to bring it up with him. Their kids were more important then her job, he would certainly see that point. Their kids would also likely end up at the Academy, which meant that they wouldn't necessarily have to save for an education. They didn't really need the money and her pension would be enough to supplement their income. The question arose, if she didn't _need_ to work, why couldn't she be a stay at home mom? She knew a lot of women who were. Harriet was, Bev's work schedule as a Minister gave her plenty of time and with AJ retired, their son pretty much always had both parents at home and Peach was a stay at home mom who had been educated for something more.

Yes, that was probably the most apt comparison, almost like a precedent were she arguing a court case. Both she and Nicole were very well educated women. Both were near the top of their professions and both were now married to men who were about to receive big promotions. Of course a few stars on a shoulder wasn't quite as big a jump as becoming President, but that was the only thing wrong with the comparison. Then again, Nicole and Nate had three children and one more on the way, and were without a mortgage or utility bills being as the houses that they had lived in had largely been tied to Nate's job and covered by a government budget. She and Harm had barely been able to afford this house a few years ago but now they were easily making the bill payments, her kids needed her and that had to supersede all else.

Resigning her commission, it was what was best for her family.

1304 ZULU

BAX'S APARTMENT

CRYSTAL CITY, VIRGINIA

"You can't call in sick." Jen insisted. "Someone needs to be in OpNavs this morning."

"Admiral Varney and Harm will be there, that's the VCNO and a DCNO, with Barris out recovering from surgery. Besides, it's one day and I have over one hundred and twenty leave days on the books." He came up behind her and opened his hand across her bare stomach. "This is the only week you have leave and I'd like at least one day with you."

"You just want one day where we don't have to get out of bed." Jen teased as she turned around and pushed him back on to the bed.

"I just want one day where I don't have to be reminded of it all." He responded as he watched her climb on top of him and straddle his hips. "Where the UCMJ doesn't matter. I want one day where I can feel all day, the way I feel in the evenings when I come home to you."

"This would conveniently coincide with the fact that your parents are due in today?" Jen teased as she lowered herself down to lay on top of him.

"Well, I just want to make sure everything goes alright." He had been avoiding something for a week and now was the time to come out with it; he just had to take one deep breath and dive in. "I think Harm knows."

"What?" Jen's eyes grew wide. "Did you tell him?"

"No, I didn't but, Jack, Sturgis, Harm and me; we all kind of have this special plane of communication with each other. Harm knew what questions to ask and the ones I didn't answer, I imagine he's got his suspicions." Bax explained.

"Why didn't you deny it?" She asked.

"I refuse to lie about you, Jen. The second I do something that cowardly, I'll no longer deserve you, as it is I'm not sure I do." He took a deep breath and as he looked up he saw tears forming in her eyes. "Why are you crying?" He whispered tenderly.

"Because you can be so damn sweet some times." She threw her arms around his neck.

"Jen, why are you with an old fart like me?" He joked as he hugged her right back.

"Don't talk about yourself that way." She started. "You're a very good man with a very good heart. You're smart, you're funny, you're handsome, you're successful, the fact that you want me is nothing short of a miracle, I'd be a fool not to want to be with you." She answered as she ran her hands through his hair. "I think the question I should be asking is why me? You're in the position to get one of those dress white groupie, blonde trophy wives. Why a brunette Senior Chief with a record?"

"Because you challenge me. Because you understand me and probably more obviously, because I'm addicted to you." He answered as he began to kiss her neck. "And I don't see any of that changing for a very long time."

"Very good answer." Jen rubbed her nose against his. For one morning at least, they might have been able to forget. If only for four blissful hours.

1654 ZULU

BELTWAY BURGER

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Mac had called in her friend for a lunch. Lucky for her the campaign was in the DC area. Nicole had told her that Nate was going to be in a meeting with D Trip all afternoon to lay out a comprehensive strategy for the southwest and the Mississippi River line that ran from New Mexico to Louisiana and up the river to Iowa. So, she had a girlfriend to talk to about what she was contemplating.

She watched as her very pregnant friend came walking into the restaurant flanked by Secret Service personnel. Mac waved over for Nicole who very slowly made her way over to the table. "Hey Mac." Nicole said in her own cheery way as she eased down into the seat.

"Hey Nicole, thanks for agreeing to have lunch." Mac smiled as she watched her friend hungrily eye the onion rings on her serving tray. "Pregnancy cravings getting to you?"

"The worst." Nicole rolled her eyes. "You said you had something that you wanted to talk about." Nicole inquired as she dug into her meal.

"Yeah, I've been thinking a lot about my kids, I'm trying to decide whether or not to resign my commission and become a stay at home mom or not." Mac explained. "You were educated, right?"

"Stanford and USC." Peach answered, attempting to maintain decorum by swallowing her food before answering.

"Exactly, I mean, was it tough for you to just stop being the professional woman and become a stay at home mom?" Mac asked trying to formulate the sentence without offending her friend.

"I think it would have been tougher doing what you do, Mac. On the bench and as a mom, you've got two full times jobs. I know I'm exhausted after I spend a full day with the boys and when we were in Harrisburg, I had staff to help with the cooking and cleaning. If you're asking whether I regret it, the answer is no." Peach chuckled a little.

"It's a tough decision for me, since I was nineteen; the Corps has been the only thing that I've known to provide my life with a sense of continuity. Now I have Harm and the kids and I get to thinking that I might not need the Marine Corps for that sense of continuity any more, I get to thinking that even if I do need the Corps for something, my kids need me more." Mac began to explain. "Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I went through the same thing when I had to leave the State Department. Just like you, that was the only job I'd ever had and I got it right out of Grad School. Some things in life are worth the sacrifice and I didn't have to give it up entirely. Every now and then, when I get free time, I contribute foreign affairs articles to newspapers or national magazines; it keeps me in touch with my old work community even if that is in a slightly remote way." Peach explained as she played around with a piece of lettuce protruding from her burger. "Mac, before you do anything, you need to talk with Harm, if I've learned anything from my experience, the person who was able to make the transition easier on me was Nate and I have a feeling that if you talk to Harm, he could do the same thing."

"You've been talking to your psychiatrist mother in law, haven't you?" Mac smiled brightly.

"She is the communication guru, isn't she?" Peach replied, taking another bite out of her lunch. Talking to Dr. Eileen Ross was something that Mac had taken time out to do a few times during the last few years. In fact, the psychiatrist's office had gotten a lot of business from that particular circle of friends over the last few years. When Mac and Harm were working through her postpartum after Tommy was born, Bax had suggested that they talk to Dr. Ross, which they both did in separate sessions and together although it had taken some very serious coaxing to get Mac into the office the first time.

"Thanks, Nicole." Mac nodded and smiled. "I've got to be back in court in fifteen minutes, give my best to Nate and kids would you?"

"And give mine to Harm, Sasha and Tommy." Peach and Mac hugged, somewhat loosely so as to accommodate the current size of Nicole's belly. Mac headed for her car with a new sense of resolve; after all, she wouldn't have to resign completely. She could go on reserve status and like Peach had done, she could contribute articles to military law journals or even do some volunteer work. The idea of a stay at home mom had changed a lot from the clichés of the last century.

SAME TIME

BAX'S APARTMENT

CRYSTAL CITY, VIRGINIA

A knock came at his door just as he and Jen were sitting down to lunch. He knew who it was. Isaac and Edith Baxter were every bit the old money types that they presented themselves to be. You know the types, the ones who would likely be more at home in the golden watch era then they were in the modern day. Naval service ran in his blood, it tended to be reluctant though. His father had served on a carrier as a plane captain during Korea, but after the war he had come back to the family vineyard in Napa Valley and for the last fifty years he had run the place.

Bax walked over to the door and opened it to see his parents standing there. His dad was dressed in his typical country club/Bob Hope way with a canary yellow golf shirt on and a pitching wedge in hand. His mother was dressed slightly more modern; she looked like something out of the Love Boat, to the point where Bax wasn't sure whether or not to laugh. "Hey Mom, Dad." Bax leaned down and gave each of his parents a hug.

"Ethan, why aren't you at work, what now that you're some big important Admiral you don't have to go to work?" She walked into his apartment. "And what's this about not calling us regularly? Do you realize how long I fed you and clothed you and the pain I went through to bring you into this world and you can't pick up a phone, Mr. Big Shot?"

"Dad, she's doing it again." Bax whispered to his father.

"I know, son, let her go." Mr. Baxter gave his son a pat on the head.

"What's with this living room, Ethan? It's filthy; you can't clean a living room? What's the matter with you?" She called from the living room. "You know, if you married a nice girl, she could teach you these kinds of things. Why aren't you married, Ethan? I haven't even met a girlfriend in twenty years, are you gay, dear?"

"No, ma, I'm not gay." Bax answered. "Dad, stop her."

"Son, if I had found a way in the last fifty years, don't you think I would have done it by now?" His dad answered. Bax decided to guide his dad into the kitchen which was down the hall from the front door.

"Dad, this is Jennifer Coates." Bax motioned to Jen who got up from the table and came over to shake Isaac Baxter's hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Mr. Baxter nodded at Jen who smiled brilliantly. "Nicely done, son." Isaac whispered to his son in an aside.

"Ethan, you call this a bedroom?" His mother was completing her circumnavigation of the apartment. He had never been good about keeping a tidy bedroom. By the standards of men, the rest of the apartment was actually not a mess, it hadn't been dusted in a while, but aside from that, it was neat. "What's that smell?"

That question brought an instant terror to the eyes of all three people in the kitchen. Bax and Jen knew what the smell was, it was the only real remaining evidence of the previous night's activity not to mention this morning. It was the scent of sex. All three of them rushed out of the kitchen toward the bedroom at a pace that would have made a herd of wildebeests proud. When they got to the bedroom, they saw Edith Baxter standing there with a can of Lysol. "Now, Ethan is it so hard to spray air-freshener?" His mother lectured him with a stern glance. The older woman's glance then turned to realize that she was no longer the only woman in the room. "Ethan, would you care to make introductions like the nice boy that I know I raised you to be?"

Bax rolled his eyes. "Mom, this is Jennifer Coates. Jen, this is my mom, Edith." The two women shook hands.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Baxter. Ethan has told me so much about you." Jen smiled politely at the older woman.

"I'm sure he would have mentioned you, dear," Edith turned her gaze from Jen to Bax, "if he ever _called_."

"Ma, I'm the Deputy Chief of Naval Operations for the entire United States Navy. I have twelve hour days, some times fourteen, at the end of which I normally come home, microwave a slice of pizza and pass out on the bed." Bax answered. Jen tried to hide her sly smile, truth be told, that wasn't _all_ Ethan did when he got home, there was one more thing which he always had the energy for and always made sure he brought his 'A' game. If that _wasn't _his 'A' game, when he finally came out with it, it just might kill her, or so she thought.

"Jennifer, dear, I hope he's not giving you too much trouble. I know he can be a handful. Did you know, one Halloween he dressed up as Adam and walked around trick or treating wearing nothing but a fig leaf?" Edith took the younger woman by the hand and they headed toward the kitchen. Jen tried not to break out laughing at the story. Her first thought was 'Only Ethan', her second thought was 'damn, how big was that fig tree!'

"Then there was this other time that he brought a bunch of friends home from High School and they all went skinny-dipping in the pond at our house." Edith was rolling her eyes even remembering it.

"Girls involved?" Jen asked and watched as her boyfriend's cheeks went a bright shade of pink.

"Then there was the time that you streaked through the arena when President Carter came to town." Edith reminded her son.

"I was wearing a Reagan mask." Bax smiled.

"Come to think of it, son, we had a hell of a time keeping clothes on you when you were younger." Mr. Baxter jumped in. "Does the CNO have to staple your uniform on?"

"No, dad I outgrew that phase." Bax rolled his eyes and pleaded with Jen to change the topic. All she could do was laugh, she understood now why Ethan probably wasn't particularly fond of having his parents visit him but to her they had been nothing short of absolutely charming.

2234 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Mac opened the front door and immediately she was greeted by Sasha who came running over waving a picture that she had coloured with her crayons. She had used her grey crayon to draw one of her daddy's beloved Tomcats and a green crayon to draw her mommy's uniform. For a four year old it was a pretty good job. "Very good, Sasha, are you going to show daddy when he gets home?"

"Nanny says I should." Sasha beamed at her mother and Mac suddenly remembered that Trish and Frank were in town and at the house.

"I also said that she should go wash up before dinner." Trish came walking in from the kitchen, drying her hands off with the towel. Sasha obediently took that as her cue to head for the bathroom rather then incur a few minutes of lecturing from her mother and grandmother.

"Trish you don't have to make dinner." Mac started but her mother in law cut her off.

"Sarah, I'm only in town a few times a year, if you don't let me cook for my grandchildren and the woman who has made my Harmon so happy, then you and I may have our first issue." Trish warned before heading back to the kitchen.

"At least let me help. I'd better get used to it." Mac responded, heading into the kitchen. In her five years of marriage, she had done some cooking but not an overwhelming amount, if that it was almost even between the amount of cooking she did, the amount of cooking Harm did and the amount of times they ordered in.

"Sounds like there's more to that statement." Trish remarked as the two women began chopping the vegetables to mix into the spaghetti sauce.

"I've been thinking about taking more time to be with the kids." Mac began to introduce the topic with her mother in law.

"You mean resigning your commission?" Trish asked trying to clear things up. She knew the woman she saw as a daughter well enough to know that Mac had a way of saying things without saying them.

"Not exactly, I've been thinking about going on reserve status which would take me off active duty and give me more time with the kids." Mac explained. "Trish, I love my kids more then anything and this decision should be so easy but yet it feels as if I'm trying to cut off my left arm."

"Sarah, the Marine Corps is a large part of your life and whether you would like to believe it or not, you're just as human as the rest of us and that won't make leaving any easier." Trish put a hand on Mac's shoulder. "I have to tell you that I admire the fact that you're willing to give this up, I know how tough it is for you."

"But it shouldn't be tough, Trish. I should be able to look at Sasha and Tommy and have this be the easiest decision in the world. I can't help feeling that I'm the worst mother in the world." Mac hung her head and began to sob softly.

"Sarah, you're willing to sacrifice something that helped make you who you are for your children, how many women can say that?" Trish lightly wiped the tears from Mac's eyes. "Life's not supposed to be easy, dear, if it was, there would be no point to it." Mac nodded against Trish's shoulder.

"We should probably focus on dinner, otherwise we'll have some hungry people on our hands and nothing to feed them." Mac smiled at her mother in law as she pulled out of the hug. She had some wonderful supportive people around her, she had good friends and an understanding maternal influence. Not to mention her wonderful husband and her beautiful children. Life was good and it was time that she let go of certain things so that she could ensure that her kids' lives would be even better.

SAME TIME

MCAS CHERRY POINT

JACKSONVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA

Eileen Ross had never felt entirely comfortable on a Marine Base but God only knew why. She had been married to one for more then fifty years. She'd been on base at Lejeune, Quantico, Pendleton and Butler over the years, she had even travelled to the base hospital at Landstuhl when Preston had been shot and she had gone to Kuwait with General Jack once the country had been liberated.

Still, she never felt entirely comfortable on a Marine Base. Three of her children were Marines, her father in-law and most of her brother's in-law were Marines. "Excuse me, Staff Sergeant, can you tell me where I would find Captain Anna Ross?" Eileen asked politely.

"Oh, yes ma'am. You're going the right way, go into the main admin building and look for a large glass door with a decal on it that reads "VMFA-186", through those doors you'll find the Captain's office." The Staff Sergeant nodded at Mrs. Ross before heading off on his way again. Her heels clicked on the pavement as she made her way toward her daughter's office. A Marine Corps Air Station felt different then the average Marine Base did. There was a more mechanical efficiency, she thought, to an MCAS. Everyone seemed so sterile, so focused. Well, Marines were by nature a focused group, but their was more individuality here whereas on the infantry bases, the Marines seemed to share a general sense of each other and rarely walked around alone.

She walked into the main administration building and down a long sea foam green tiled hallways toward it's end. Sure enough, when she came to the end of the hallway, there was a large double glass door with a large decal of a growling cartoon bulldog in Marine greens carrying an M-1 Garand. Over the bulldog's head it read 'VMFA-186'. Eileen Ross pushed the doors open and strode inside. She saw the open door to her daughter's office and stood in the doorway. "Anna, it's after five for God's sake don't work yourself into an early grave."

"Hey Mom." The young Marine Captain got up from behind her desk and walked over to give her mom a hug. "What are you doing down here?"

"I came to visit my daughter. Being as I haven't seen you since you left for that tour on the Lincoln at the beginning of the year." Eileen responded somewhat sarcastically as she moved into the office.

"Mom, I'm sorry I just have a lot of paperwork and a lot of things on my mind." Anna rubbed her temples.

"Not to mention a big date with Senator stuff-shirt tonight." Johnny-Reb popped up in the doorway.

"A date with a Senator?" Eileen Ross raised her eyebrows.

"Senatorial candidate, Democrat." Anna fired off without looking up.

"Also a pencil dick who would probably faint at the sight of an M-16." Johnny-Reb followed up. Eileen Ross finally got out of her chair to greet John.

"Jonathan Ricker, where did you learn to talk like that?" Eileen greeted the young man she had known since he had been a plebe at Annapolis.

"You've got to see this guy, Mrs. Ross. The General would have had a field day with him. He's built like a garden hoe and he's got the intelligence of a wet dish rag." Johnny-Reb rolled his eyes and this all cause Mrs. Ross to laugh.

"I don't know why the two of you insist on being so mean to Miles." Anna whined slightly.

"I didn't say anything." Dr. Ross suddenly looked very confused.

"She doesn't mean you, she means me and Sergei." Johnny-Reb was always the shit disturber who was willing to volunteer information. "You should have seen it Mrs. Ross, he came to the base for a campaign stop and I offered to take him up in my bird, of course he had to accept."

"Why?" Eileen asked.

"Because Johnny made the offer on Live TV." Anna filled her mother in.

"Anyway, I cranked the heat up in the cockpit and took off. I rocked the wings a little bit after takeoff. By then he was already feeling a little queasy. I brought him into a negative gee climb followed by a seven gee turn and he got so sick I had to laugh." Johnny-Reb was laughing boisterously just remembering it.

"And you cost him four points in the polls from that little stunt." Anna accused.

"John that was very immature." And completely hilarious, Dr. Ross added under her breath. General Jack had always had a bit of a soft spot for the young man everyone knew as Johnny-Reb. He called him the Marine Cowboy, largely because 'Reb' as he was known to those closest to him, was the only Marine who got away with wearing a cowboy hat and acoustic guitar on the bridge of the Stennis.

"Anna, I'll be in town for the rest of the week, you've got my cell number if you want to do something." Eileen Ross headed out of the office, shutting the door behind her. Johnny-Reb followed closely in her wake. "So, what's going on with my daughter?"

"You want the short answer or the long answer?" Johnny-Reb asked.

"Which is worse?" Eileen Ross questioned as they walked back down the long hallway.

"Well, in order to get through the long version, as it was told to me, I needed half a bottle of Jack from the O Club." Johnny-Reb chuckled.

"You'd better give me the short version then." Dr. Ross pushed open the door as they headed outside.

"Two words: Sergei Rabb." John explained as they headed across the base.

"I might need that bottle of Jack." Eileen shot caustically. "What happened?"

"She confronted him, he ran." John explained. "Well, retreated."

"Right into the arms of a Democratic Senatorial candidate apparently." Eileen Ross rolled her eyes, she'd seen this one too many times in her practice and she was sick of it. "And now you and Sergei are trying to make her realize that his 'Miles' is a moron?"

"Trying our damnedest, ma'am." The last sentence emphasized John's heavy southern drawl.

"Stop." Eileen stopped walking and took the young man by the sleeve. "She's lashing out, largely at Sergei and aligning yourself with him has destroyed your credibility by proxy. She won't listen to you and breaking down this man will only endear her to him. By the same token, you're still her friend, so endearing yourself to this Miles won't work to scare her off. Your best course of action is apathy."

"Apathy doesn't exist in a Marine vocabulary." John answered.

"Squeeze it in!" Eileen Ross headed back toward her car.

2306 ZULU

BAX'S APARTMENT

CRYSTAL CITY, VIRGINIA

Bax and his dad stood out on the patio of the apartment smoking cigars. They looked out over the city, over the river and over the district beyond. "Jen's good for you." Isaac Baxter broke the silence. "A little young though, don't you think."

"Fifteen years isn't that big a gap, dad." Bax immediately jumped to defend his actions.

"It's a generation, Ethan." Isaac answered as he blew a cloud of smoke. "Not to mention there's the gap between officer and enlisted." Those words hung like a dense veil over the balcony. "I found the cover of a Senior Chief Petty Officer on the hat rack. Now, unless a lot has changed in the Navy with regard to frat regs, you could be in a whole heap of trouble, son."

"It's a little less complicated then that, dad. We don't share a command and as far as anyone knows, we've only ever met once in any capacity." Bax answered.

"Nothing stays hidden for too long, son." Isaac Baxter, for all his pomposity and upper class conceit, was still a very wise man with a lot of life experiences to draw on.

"I know, dad, I just think there are some things that are none of the government's damn business. Who I go to bed with at night certainly chiefs that list!" Bax was slightly annoyed.

"Good order and discipline, you know the argument." Isaac reminded his son. "The government needs to assure that prevails in the military community."

"Yeah, dad, I believe I read that thesis in its original text, it was called 1984." Bax shot back.

"Come on, Ethan, that's a little strong and you know it." Isaac was ready to get his son to come back to reality on this one. "You're the Deputy Chief of Naval Operations, your life is under a congressional microscope. Every time some international Naval crisis happens in the Pacific, congress is going to have to ask for your opinion and you don't think some over eager congressman who disagrees with you wouldn't go digging for dirt to discredit you?"

"Now you're the one who's gone off a little strong, dad." Bax had to laugh at his father's hyperbole.

"God love you, Ethan you were never a political animal. Anyone in Washington is a potential target for anyone else if they get in the way of an agenda or a plan. You can't even hide behind the Presidential seal any more. The whole mess with Clinton proved that. In what used to be the Eden of our democracy, there exist many serpents." His dad answered. Bax hunched over the wrought iron railing of the balcony. Damn it, his old man was right. Once, in an article a long time ago, USA Today had called Isaac Baxter the 'Sage of the Grape', that's what he was, a wise man, a man who in a time of old would have served perhaps as a cardinal or an advisor to a King but in the modern era, his talents were being wasted on a son who lacked any self control.

He hated it. He created something that he would never risk, but just by creating it, he had risked it all. He was still scared and he was still lost and maybe that's why Jen was such a comfort to him. Because if he was lost, and she with him, then they were lost together. But she deserved better. "We're going to have leave now, son, I'll see you at the golf course Saturday, right?" Isaac headed into the apartment and left his son standing out on the balcony.

"Yeah." Bax nodded and Isaac retreated into the entry way of the apartment. The door to the apartment could soon be heard slamming. Bax steeled his resolve he knew what he had to do. He felt a rush as the balcony door opened behind him and her soft hands landed on his back.

"Hey." She whispered as she slid under his arm. "Your parents are actually really nice if you get to know them." She felt him tense up around her. "Ethan, what's wrong?"

"We need to stop." He said simply and shook his head. "I need to stop, somebody needs to stop, Jen." It was his turn to feel her tense up. "I can do this to you anymore, it's just too selfish of me." He stopped leaning on the railing. "You're young, you deserve someone who can give you a future, I can't and it's not because I don't love you, it's because there's a big barrier saying I can't."

Jen felt her insides being to rip and twist in every which way. "Why? Why now and not a month ago? Or six weeks ago?" She began to cry openly. "Damn you, why!"

"Because we did need each other for a point. I needed you because, I needed to know that there was someone out there who did understand me. Hell, Jen you gave me hope and that's something I'll never be able to thank you enough for. Now, it's time for you to go out there and get what you want." Bax pushed open the door to the apartment.

"I want you." She said with a trembling lip as she looked at him.

"And I want you. But you signed a contract and I swore an oath to uphold certain values. We can't keep betraying those promises." He was biting his lip to withhold his own emotions.

"What happened to being addicted?" Jen asked as she moved passed him.

"I never said this would be easy, in fact I will likely be a hollowed out shell of a man for months. But it'll save you, and that's worth anything I might have to go through." He closed his eyes solemnly and bowed his head. Then she disappeared into the apartment and after a few minutes the door slammed behind her. He would look around the apartment and found no trace of her. It was as if the last month had never happened. The last traces of her, were a few smoke rings in the dark that drifted up from a once lit cigar on the balcony.

2435 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Mac was sitting at the table fingering through a copy of the Washington Post and playing with the sash on her bathrobe. She felt his warm, large hands surprise her neck and begin to knead her muscles. "Late getting home, again." She reminded him quietly.

"Earlier then I was last week." He replied as he moved his hands down to her back.

"Harm, we need to talk about something." While Mac was certainly enjoying the sensations he was creating she still needed to say something. "Harm?"

"I'm here." He whispered seductively in her ear.

"Harm, I'm reserving my commission so I can spend more time with the kids." Mac blurted out before she could get lost in him again. She felt his hands stop.

"Are you sure that's what you want to do?" Harm asked. He knew there were days where he just considered chucking it all but Mac had never given him the slightest inclination that she had ever felt the same way. When she had been on maternity leave, she had almost gone insane due to lack of work. Harm wondered how she would ever be able to manage reserve status.

"I've been thinking about it a lot, I've talked to a few people and yeah, Harm, I think it's something I really want to do." She nodded. "Our kids are in their formative years and even if Matt's or your parent's or AJ and Bev's is better then some babysitter, it's still not as good as them having a parent around." She kissed his hand. "Did you get something to eat at work?"

"Yeah, ordered in." Harm nodded.

"Good, then let's go into the family room." She took him by the hand and led him over to the couch.


	10. See You In September

For the last month at JAG, Senior Chief Jennifer Coates had been a veritable member of the walking dead. She was mechanical, cold, unfeeling and very un-Coates as Bud had taken to putting it. She would normally just sit at her desk in Admiral Turner's outer office and perform a few errands here and there without saying anything at all to anyone and on the off chance that she did respond, her responses were dispassionate and mono-syllabic. That had worked well for a month and into what was a rolling, temperate September. Until one day, to be particular, the first day of school for most kids when the one key to her resolve walked into JAG.

"Admiral on deck!" Bud shouted as he saw the three star get off the elevator and walk through the big doors into the JAG bullpen. Jen came to attention, expecting to see Admiral Rabb come walking through the bullpen on his way in to see Admiral Turner. When she heard an all too familiar voice give the 'at ease' order, she immediately threw herself down in her chair and vowed not to let him get to her. When she saw Ethan……Admiral Baxter, she had to correct herself, she noticed that he didn't seem phased at all. It had to be that damn SEAL disposition, she had noticed that Admiral Chegwidden could and often would act the same way when something had been bugging him.

"Good Morning, Senior Chief, is Admiral Turner in?" Bax asked, his jaw squared and his demeanour generally pleasant. Was it really that easy for him? Could he really be so cold, so unfeeling. Could he really be the way he was right now, while his mere presence tore open wounds and memories of that night.

"Yes, sir." She nodded as he stood there. His summer white uniform pinned tightly against his chest. She was no longer thinking about the last memory that they had shared, but the many ones that they had shared before, tangled in the cream coloured sheets on his bed. She made note of the six rows of ribbons pinned to his chest and the trident insignia above them. She did her best to avoid his shoulder-boards or the laurels on his cover or anything that could remind her that he was an officer.

That tactic worked well, it allowed her to maintain some element of composure until she could intercom Admiral Turner who of course said he'd love to see his old friend and superior officer. As Admiral Baxter was walking into Turner's office, she caught a glimpse of the one symbol she had forgotten, his Academy ring. The second she saw it, it was as if that one little token was enough to break her resolve. After the door to Admiral Turner's office had closed, she made a mad dash for the bathroom, she needed to get it all off her chest.

1936 ZULU

ROSCOE'S CHICKEN & WAFFLES

WESTERN LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

The 'Ross for President' campaign bus had made a lunch stop at Roscoe's in LA. Nate was on a tour of the west coast that had started in Washington State at the end of August; their goal was to be in San Diego in time for the seventh anniversary remembrance of September 11th. Tomorrow, they were due to arrive at Camp Pendleton, home of the First Marine Expeditionary Force, which Nate had served with during the Gulf. Today, they were just shoring up support in what was usually a safe Democratic state.

Nate shook hands with the crowd and swapped stories about the Major League baseball season. The Dodgers fans and he got into a few very contentious conversations about whether it would be the Dodgers or the Pirates (both were teams having very good seasons) could take the pennant this year. Nate, Charlie and the Ross family had eaten with a table full of city workers who had been given an extended lunch due to unsafe conditions, largely hot asphalt on a day where the temperature was well over a hundred degrees Fahrenheit.

After lunch, Nate had shaken hands with the workers. Two of his sons had been given hard-hats as gifts from the guys and the other child had been given an orange and yellow road safety vest. Nate got each of his kids to shake hands with the workers and thank them for the little tokens before heading to the bus. Nate shook hands with the guys one more time before climbing on to the bus himself.

He rarely wore a jacket in the heat, he preferred to role up the cuffs on an Oxford shirt, throw his tie into the back of the bus and look about as informal as a politician could manage while on the campaign trail. Slowly, the bus pulled away from the crowd in West LA and made its way back toward the highway. He was going to meet up with the Mayor of LA today but the mayor had a budget crisis at the last moment and Nate assured him that it was alright, he'd probably see him before election night anyway.

As they drove through the streets of LA, Nate scribbled down a few notes on defence policy as he prepared for a two day swing through Marine-Navy country with back to back stops at Camp Pendleton tomorrow and then on board the _Stennis_ which was in port in San Diego. They were going to take the long way through LA, the construction was murder and the long way was surprisingly the shortest way back to the Interstate was through the city. Once again, Nate was doing three things at once, trying to write a few speeches, taking policies briefings from his staff and trying to help his boy's co-ordinate their latest game of war. His kids were pretty even handed with how they handled their games, one always had the air advantage, the other had the armour advantage and the last one had an infantry advantage.

He kissed his wife on the cheek as he watched his boys play their little war games. Even at age five, he could see his sons following him and indeed most of the men in their family, into the Marine Corps. His son Jack had always been the tank strategist of the three, well, as much as possible for a five year-old; Brad was the infantry commander, fittingly, being as he was named after General Bradley known as the 'soldier's general'; his son Tim had obviously thought ahead because he had asked for the airplane toys for Christmas. Nate shook his head, who said kids didn't have a clear grasp of the world?

"You have your BDU ready for tomorrow?" Peach asked as she sat next to her husband who had his head pressed up against the bus window. He was going to have to put his reserve hours in when they got to Pendleton tomorrow, so when they had embarked on this tour, he'd made sure that he had his BDU and his rifle packed. He was going to have to qualify long range for what he assumed was the last time tomorrow.

"Yeah." He nodded as he tapped his pen on the legal pad in front of him. The campaign was running well, of course, the Democrats had a more then three month head start on the Republicans. The Wayne/Adams ticket was easily building steam in the Deep South and the Midwest though. This campaign was going to be fought over a handful of states through the southwest and Midwest and everyone knew it. As they were driving through the city, Nate saw a construction project taking place in the neighbourhood. He got up from the couch and walked through the front part of the bus toward the driver. "Pull this boat over." Nate told him and the driver brought the bus to the side of the road.

"Mr. Ross, what do you think you're doing?" One of Nate's Secret Service agents asked.

"I think I'm making an impromptu stop so that I can get to know a few American people in this neighbourhood." Nate gave the agent a pat on the shoulder. "Some times you just have to reach out to people, Pete."

"I've got to agree with Secret Service, Nate; we want to make San Diego in enough time for you to get some rest in a hotel room tonight." Charlie suggested.

"Charlie, we're Democrats, this is exactly the kind of thing we _should_ be stopping for." Nate rubbed his friend's head and then he moved to the middle aisle and cleared his throat to get the attention of his campaign staff. "Alright, we've got two months left in this campaign and so far, there's very little that differentiates this campaign from any other national campaign. So, here's what I'm proposing, we go out there and we help those people build a school for this neighbourhood."

There was a round of applause for their boss and all the staffers got up out of their seats. Nate led the group off the bus and they walked over to the community volunteer site. "What would you say to twenty-two new and willing volunteers?" Nate smiled widely and the community leader had to laugh, this was certainly something he hadn't expected.

1627 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Vice Admiral Ethan Baxter walked out of his meeting with Rear Admiral Sturgis Turner a little later then he expected. The two men shook hands in the outer office before Bax headed across the bullpen toward the elevator. Both men had noticed that Coates wasn't at her desk. Bax had assumed that she had momentarily just stepped away. Sturgis on the other hand knew, based on her behaviour over the last month that something was up.

Sturgis walked out into the bullpen where he came across his Chief of Staff, Commander Bud Roberts. "Bud!" Sturgis called and Bud stopped just outside his office.

"Yes, sir." Bud raised his head from the folder he had been reading to address his commanding officer.

"Commander Roberts, have you seen Senior Chief Coates?" Sturgis was using a tone that carried with it no levity, so there was no mistaking him.

"Yes, sir, she's been in the ladies' room for the better part of an hour sobbing, sir. Commander Manetti is in there with her." Bud replied almost mechanically.

"What!" Sturgis had executed his best Chegwidden impression. "Why the hell didn't anyone think to call me, Commander?"

"Well, sir, you were in a meeting with a three star and by consensus, Commander Manetti and I decided it would be better to not interrupt you." Bud explained quickly in an attempt to save his own hide from the Admiral's wrath.

"Commander, if one of my people is having a crisis, at work, I want to be notified of it immediately from now on, do you understand me?" Sturgis had calmed but he was still speaking through gritted teeth. Sturgis remembered a cryptic remark that Harm had made a week earlier when Sturgis had brought up Coates demeanour over a dinner that he and Bobbi were having the Rabbs'. Suddenly some thing seemed all to clear in his head. "Commander Roberts, call Admiral Rabb over at the Pentagon, tell him I'm on my way over and to hold Admiral Baxter in the office until I get there."

"Aye, aye, sir." Bud nodded. His experience in the Navy and in the courtroom meant that Admiral Turner's order raised a bunch of flags but none were too serious to warrant his mind drifting to the place it had immediately gone to. After all, what he was considering would have meant that one of the Navy's most respected and highly decorated officers was guilty of fraternization but that suspicion was ludicrous; wasn't it?

Sturgis walked over to the ladies' room door and tapped on it lightly. "Commander Manetti!" He shouted loud enough to ensure that he had been heard.

"Yes, sir!" Commander Tracy Manetti answered from inside the restroom.

"Commander, is the Senior Chief physically injured in anyway?" Sturgis was just going to cover all his bases to be sure.

"No, sir, at this point I don't really know what else is going on, but I know she's not injured." Manetti assured her CO. "What should I do, sir?"

"Get back to work, Commander. Tell the Senior Chief that she has my permission – scratch that – tell her that I'm ordering her to take the rest of the day to get herself together." He was back to doing his best Chegwidden impression.

"Aye, aye, sir." Manetti answered and with that assurance, Sturgis headed for the elevator.

"Sir!" Bud called after his commanding officer. "Admiral Rabb said he's sure like to know what's going on, but he thinks he can wait until you get there."

"Thank you, Commander." Sturgis nodded and the door closed between him and the JAG Ops floor. Sturgis steadied his breathing in the elevator. Damn it! How could he have been so stupid? He had known Bax for twenty-seven years; his friend had some eccentricities and a penchant for bending the rules but never cleanly breaking them like this. He remembered a line from a made for TV movie from a couple of years back; _"I hate to cross the old man, Brad, he's been like a father to us"_, it became clear what he needed to do. He opened up his cell and dialled the familiar number to the house in McLean.

"Chegwidden." The Admiral answered.

"Sir, Admiral Rabb and I could use your assistance for a few hours this afternoon. There's a matter of a particular sensitivity that we need your help with." Sturgis normally would have tried to get Keeter but a hop from Pearl wasn't something he wanted to wait for.

"What did Rabb do now and how much trouble is he in?" Chegwidden asked almost out of habit.

"This isn't about Admiral Rabb, sir. It's about Admiral Baxter." Sturgis felt the other end of the line go silent as he navigated his way out to the parking lot. "Sir?"

"I'm here, Mr. Turner. You do realize that you're talking about and appointed and confirmed Deputy Chief of Naval Operations and a three star Admiral, right?" Chegwidden obviously needed to check to be sure.

"Yes, sir." Sturgis nodded.

"What has he done, Admiral?" Chegwidden asked.

"There's no concrete proof, sir, or if there is, we just haven't found it yet. But we suspect fraternization." Sturgis explained.

"With someone in his command? Is this going to show up in the Washington Post tomorrow and he needs council?" The Admiral asked, he had never served with Baxter but he knew his reputation as a good officer and one of the most qualified flags in the Navy.

"No, sir, it's not with someone in his command. It's an enlisted person and if it hadn't been for some very keen observation on the part of Harm and myself, I don't suspect anyone would have found out." Sturgis pulled his car out of the parking lot and drove toward Arlington.

"Why do I have the sneaking suspicion that I know the enlisted person?" Chegwidden questioned.

"Senior Chief Coates, sir." Sturgis answered.

"Damn!" Chegwidden cursed lowly. "Alright, Admiral, my wife and son are visiting her mother up in Leesburg today. Bring Rabb and Baxter by the house once you've collected them and let's see if we can't sort this mess out."

"Thank you, sir." Sturgis closed his cell and continued the drive to Arlington.

0830 PST

CAMP PENDLETON

OUTSIDE SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

Nate was dressed in the new MARPAT uniform. Though many still called it a BDU, the differences seemed subtle but were magnified if placed in context. He'd never seen three kids more enthused then when his boys first saw him in his uniform, complete with Colonel's eagles on his shoulders and his M40A1 rifle slung over his shoulder. Nate's promotion had come almost special order from the President the previous summer. The Marine reserve unit to which he was attached had lost its bird to colon cancer and the task had fallen to the boys at Marine HQ to find a replacement. Being as the unit was largely composed of reservists from Pennsylvania, with a few from New Jersey, Maryland and West Virginia, two million Pennsylvanians had petitioned the Commandant of the Marine Corps on the behalf of their Governor to have him take command of the unit and he was so granted the command.

Nate wore the standard MARPAT cap and combat boots for his qualification period today. The shots of him in uniform were being eaten up by the press. After that stunt by a Democratic Senatorial candidate in North Carolina last month, the Dems had come under fire for being weak on defence. ZNN had called it a replay of the famed Dukakis Tank Incident from '88. These shots of an experienced Marine, in a new uniform, with the insignia of a senior officer emblazoned in black on his collar and a sniper rifle on his shoulder were likely going to go a long way to rectify that image.

"Alright, Colonel, you know the rules for long range qualification." The Gunnery Sergeant addressed Nate. "I'll take you out to the range and we'll qualify you on the stationary targets from the standard prone position at six hundred, eight hundred and one thousand yards."

"What about fifteen hundred, Gunny?" Nate asked.

"Sir, fifteen hundred is only necessary for combat readiness examinations not for basic long range qualification." The Gunny informed him.

"I'm well aware of that, Gunny; I was requesting that a fifteen hundred yard target be set up." Nate grinned slightly. The Gunny nodded.

"If he thinks he can hit a fifteen hundred yard target at age forty-two with an A1, he's got my vote." A young Lieutenant commented sarcastically and Nate walked over to him.

"Did you say something, Lieutenant?" Nate asked in his best superior officer tone.

"Yes, sir, I implied that you might be somewhat out of practice, sir." The Lieutenant answered. "No offence was intended, sir, it's just that a lot of Marine snipers have problems with their eyesight at your age."

"Do you think I could beat you at a basic qualification, Lieutenant?" Nate asked, baiting the young man.

"It's possible, sir, but just about anything is." The Lieutenant answered.

"Good, get your rifle, let's see if you're as good as you think you are." Nate chuckled as he saw the Lieutenant jog over to the arms locker to retrieve his rifle.

"Alright, gentlemen, the two of you are aware of the rules of basic long range rifle qualification?" The Gunny asked and both of the officers nodded in the affirmative. The Gunny stepped aside. "Gentlemen, step up to the firing line." The two Marines walked out on to the range and laid down on the firing line hunched over their rifles. "Bringing up six hundred yards!" The Gunny shouted and two targets on the range popped out of the ground six hundred yards out. Both Marines were fast off the draw and plugged one shot dead centre before ejecting a shell and loading another bullet into the gun. "Bringing up eight hundred yards!" The Gunny shouted and two more targets appeared on the range eight hundred yards out. Once again both Marines were right on the money within milliseconds. Once again, the Marines loaded another bullet into the gun. Knowing what was coming next Nate adjusted his sights so that he wouldn't have to do so between either of the next two shots. "Bringing up a thousand yards!" This time, Nate was noticeably faster then Lieutenant, plugging off his shot at least four seconds before the Lieutenant got his shot off at the target. Once again, both of them loaded another shot into the rifle. The Gunny looked slightly amused, he was personally cheering for Colonel Ross, the Lieutenant who had challenged him was known to have a big ego and it could probably benefit from being punctured. "Bringing up fifteen hundred yards!" The transition didn't even faze Nate; he got the last shot off within nanoseconds. "Colonel, step off the firing line!" The Gunny directed as he raised a pair of binoculars and looked out into the range. Nate slung his rifle over his shoulder and walked back from the firing line.

Everyone stood behind the firing line waiting to hear the Lieutenant to get his shot off. After about two minutes, the younger man retreated from the firing line and over to the Gunny's watchtower. "Alright, I can't find it." He was exasperated. "I guess you win this round, Colonel."

"There's still a target on the range, Gunny, is there any thing saying I can't take the target out from here?" Nate looked up at the Gunnery Sergeant.

"No, sir." The Gunny nodded. "Make a hole!" He shouted to get people out of the way of the shot.

"What's the distance from here to the target, Gunny?" Nate asked as he stood there with the rifle raised to his eye. The Gunny took out his range finder.

"One thousand seven hundred and seventy-one yards, sir." The Gunny nodded at Nate who adjusted the sights on his rifle.

"Over a mile? Standing up? Never happen." The Lieutenant scoffed. Nate just chuckled sarcastically. "You ever heard of the 'Coyote shot', Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir, it's a legend out of the Gulf War. Says that a troop of Canadian Airborne soldiers were pinned down behind one of their Coyote Recon vehicles by a contingent of Republican Guard troops. The only back up in the area was supposedly a Marine scout-sniper pairing who was more then a mile away and stuck up in some Minaret outside of Kuwait city. They saw this firefight in the desert and legend says that the sniper was able to make seven kills." The Lieutenant answered. This was followed by the sound of a shot and the ping of the bullet hitting the metal target out on the range.

"It's no legend, boy." Nate turned to face the Lieutenant. "That's how I won my Silver Star."

"Clean shot, sir. Straight through." The Gunny confirmed as he hopped down off the tower.

"We still have two more rounds, Colonel." The Lieutenant taunted.

"And if memory serves, one is a jungle combat sim, is that right?" Nate chuckled. "Words to the wise, Lieutenant, before you challenge a superior, make sure you know who you're challenging."

2024 ZULU

THE PENTAGON

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm had gotten the call from Bud, he had an idea what had happened today at JAG. He'd warned Bax about this kind of thing, damn it! Then again, the whole thing was speculation; there was no concrete evidence of anything. But Harm had been a JAG long enough to know that enough speculation normally amounted to something. When Bax came through the door, Harm kept him busy talking about the war game manoeuvres in the Pacific and the increasing tensions in the Middle East.

The John Stennis was on liberty this week at NAS Wilson in Cyprus. Patrols of the Eastern Med had gotten more intense, the whole Roosevelt Battle Group usually spent up to three months from March to June patrolling the Eastern Med before returning home, this year, the Vinson would relieve it by patrolling the Eastern Med from September to December. It had become the job of the Atlantic fleet to patrol the Med, which was how it usually worked, the Atlantic fleet controlled the Med and the Pacific fleet patrolled the Persian Gulf and the Arabian Sea.

Sturgis came through the door to Harm's office without any advance notice from Harm's yeoman. "What the hell is this?" Bax looked from on to the other. "Did I leave something in your office, Sturgis?"

"Bax, we need to talk to you." Harm started, looking to Sturgis for backup.

"What is this, an intervention?" Bax looked at Sturgis. "Smells like an intervention to me."

"Bax, you're going to need to come with us." Harm took his friend by the shoulder.

"Harm, what the hell are you doing?" Bax looked his friend in the eye.

"I gave you the option of telling me a few weeks ago and we could have headed this whole thing off at the pass but now that it's blown up, you're going to have to talk with us." Harm answered, not looking at his friend. "Sturgis is the JAG, Bax I'm guessing you know the rules, we'll do this discreetly."

The three of them left the OpNavs office and walked together through the corridors of the Pentagon toward Sturgis' car. Harm and Sturgis took the front seat and Bax sat in the back twiddling his thumbs and trying hard not to raise his head. The car made it's way from the Pentagon out into the Virginia countryside toward McLean. Bax knew some of these roads, they were the same ones that you took if you wanted to get from the Pentagon to Langley; another trip he hated making. Harm and Sturgis didn't know what to make of this. It was an intervention of sorts, if what they thought was true, it could be a career ender.

"I'm enlisting the two of you as council." Bax stated lowly without looking up. He wasn't an idiot, you didn't get three stars by being one. He had worked up a feasible strategy, his friends were both lawyers, anything he told them was privileged.

"We figured." Sturgis answered. The rest of the drive was had in complete silence. Bax tried to keep his emotions in check, he was going to have to make as level headed an explanation as possible in order to get out of this one without a brawl. He knew that Harm saw Jen as a little sister and over time Sturgis had come to see her the same way. There was no good way out of this situation but he had made his bed – wait, beds and Jen – better think of a better metaphor, Bax considered. He shook his head again when he felt the car stop.

He looked out the window and saw a familiar house. This is where Harm and Mac had their engagement party. It was Admiral Chegwidden's house. He was in a lot of trouble now. Harm and Sturgis might have seen Jen as a little sister but the Admiral viewed her as a daughter and that combined with the Admiral's SEAL training was enough to make the three star nervous. Sturgis and Harm climbed out of the car and Bax decided to get out and follow them. Chegwidden was waiting at the door for them. The closer the confrontation got, the more the three men who had known each other since plebe year began to feel the knots in their stomach.

The door opened and they walked through it. This was how things were done in the Navy that AJ Chegwidden had grown up with. He didn't particularly condone the activity and Congress sure as hell didn't, but he felt the same international tremors that everyone else in Washington was feeling and he sure as hell wasn't going to put one of the country's best Naval minds out of commission because of one stupid mistake when they might need him in the near future.

The door was locked behind them and Bax was seated on a simple wooden chair in the middle of the living room. "Bax, we're not going to lie to you. What we've got is nothing but speculation, but speculation adds up." Sturgis started.

"Son, if you've got something to say in your defence, now's the time because there's still a chance to head this thing off at the pass." AJ crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"It all started about a month ago." Bax began. "It wasn't intentional, at least not at the time. We'd been hanging out, just like friends, you know? I hadn't told her what my job was, we were just friends. I didn't see the need to. One day, I felt I needed to level with her and be honest?"

"Why, if you were only friends, you weren't breaking any rules?" Harm questioned, very curious.

"Because it was subtly becoming a lot more then friendship and I knew that telling her would stop that progression. Or at least it should have." Bax explained. "She got angry at me and I tried to explain but in doing so, I had to explain the whole thing which for me included falling over my feelings."

"And apparently right into bed with Coates." AJ added, slightly perturbed. "Do you realize the damage you might have done?"

"I considered it. We weren't in the same command and we had only twice been in the same room together with any amount of witnesses. Both times occurred before anything happened between us." Bax was anguishing over his explanation. "We probably would never have been caught."

"Then how do you explain what happened at JAG today?" Sturgis pressed.

"I couldn't do it any more, it needed to end." Bax's teeth came out and but hard into his lip. "I hated myself for doing it, I still do, but as the three of you were so quick to point out, it was risking a lot of damage. That wasn't why I broke it off though. I ended it because I couldn't keep doing it to her. I couldn't keep making her think there was some future for us when I logically knew that there wasn't and there couldn't be." When Bax finished, he'd realized that he'd bitten down on his lip so hard that it was bleeding.

"You used her Bax!" Harm practically shouted. "Goddamn it! I expected better from you, you're above juvenile shit like that. We all heard how depressed you were and you used to Coates to alleviate that, you son of a bitch!"

"Harm, you've got to know that wasn't my intention!" Bax got up out of the chair.

"That doesn't change the fact that you did it!" Now it was Sturgis' turn to lose his temper. "The arguments against fraternization still stand, Baxter! Disruption of decorum and undermining the chain of command which is exactly what happened after your visit to JAG today. What did you say to Coates when you were in the outer office?"

"Nothing! I just asked if you were in the office." Bax protested.

"Well, something set her off." Sturgis pursed his lips. "She spent the better part of an hour in the head crying, Manetti was trying to coax her into saying what was wrong and for your sake, and I hope Coates kept her mouth shut."

"The real question here is why the hell Coates would cry just from you asking whether or not Sturgis was in the office." Harm pondered aloud.

"There doesn't necessarily need to be a reason, she's a woman, he's an idiot who probably didn't explain the situation properly and she's probably still trying to understand what happened." The Admiral rubbed his temples. He almost shouted for Tiner to get him an aspirin merely out of instinct. "Besides, you Coates' history with men."

Oh shit! Bax practically threw his head into his hands, how had he let that slip his memory. She had trusted him and he had abused that trust badly. He got up from the seat. "I owe Jen an apology and a much better explanation then the one I gave her."

"I'll say you do." Harm spat at his friend. Bax walked over to the door. "One of you is going to have to give me a lift back to my car a the Pentagon."

"I'll drive." Sturgis grabbed his cover and once again the two of them were out the door.

1030 PST

USS JOHN STENNIS

SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

"Permission to come aboard, Skipper?" Nate called on his way up the gangplank. Yesterday, he had not only qualified long range, he had also aced a combat readiness evaluation and beat that smart mouth Lieutenant in the process. When Nate had painted him with his scope on the jungle combat simulation range, he had one the best two out of three. He had won the head-to-head in the jungle and the actual target shooting but he had lost the cloaking test, granted he had only lost by two seconds and sixteen yards but a loss was still a loss.

"Permission granted, Colonel." The Skipper shook his hand as Nate stepped on to the flight deck of the carrier.

"The last time I was onboard a carrier was the Eisenhower on February 4th, 1991." Nate looked around. "_Gipper_ is a hell of a lot bigger then I remember _Ike_ being."

"You were on _Ike_ during the Gulf?" The Skipper looked surprised. "I flew Tomcats off of _Ike_ during the Gulf. I seem to remember a small group of Recon Marines onboard during that hitch. One surly Captain and his squad with a company XO who was a First Lieutenant." The Skipper paused for a second and then cracked a smile. "Jesus, you don't look anything like you did back then."

"Well, we all get a little older, Skipper." Nate chuckled and the two men headed for the island. "When do you get underway, Skipper?"

"Bright and early Saturday morning." The Skipper answered. "XO!" He shouted for his second in command who came running. "XO, get some _USS John Stennis_ caps for Colonel Ross' kids."

"Aye, aye, skipper." The XO smiled and headed back for the island.

"I want to thank you for letting me address your men, Captain." Nate and his kids walked with the skipper.

"Not at all, Colonel Ross, the way most of my men have it figured, you'll be the Commander in Chief soon anyway." The Skipper answered. "Your address is at noon, right, Colonel?"

"Certainly is, Skipper." Nate nodded in the affirmative. "Boys, what do you think of the aircraft carrier?"

"Dad, this is soooo cool!" Tim burst out. "Dad are we going to get to see a Hornet take off."

"It's the last day of carrier quals, young man, would you like to go up to the bridge and see a hornet launch?" The Skipper crouched down to speak with Tim.

"Will we get to see one trap, too?" This time Brad decided to speak up.

"Well, if it's going to go up, it's going to have to come down, sailor." The Captain answered.

"Sailor? We're no squids, we're jarheads." That one was fittingly, from Little Jack.

"They're Ross's." Nate added.

"No doubting that." The Skipper laughed. "In fact, we've got a Hornet qual due to begin any moment." The group of six entered the bridge and Nate lifted two of the boys up so they could see the Hornet be launched off the deck. Charlie lifted the other child. Nate had never seen three people so happy to watch a plane launch off a carrier deck.

"I want to do that, when I grow up!" Tim pointed to the Hornet.

"Son, don't let your aunt hear that, I'll never hear the end of it." Nate gave his son a pat on the head. He wasn't entirely surprised, Tim have found the sniper competition of the previous day very boring. Brad on the other hand had found it completely entertaining. After watching his dad take down targets he could barely see and evade detection in a ghillie suit, he was dead set on becoming a Marine Corps Scout-Sniper just like his old man. Something which Nate was none too fond of. Snipers were highly trained but they were also among the first called into action and he would never wish the mental burden on to one of his children.

"Alright, Cap, how long before the Hornet traps?" Nate asked.

"We've got a couple of minutes yet." The Captain answered.

"Charlie, can you watch the kids?" Nate chuckled slightly. "I just don't feel at home on a carrier in a suit." Charlie nodded and Nate headed off toward the head with his sea-bag. Nate shook hands with officers and enlisted alike on his way to the head to change. A few seconds later he was walking back to the bridge with his MARPAT uniform on including the cover. He re-entered the bridge and saluted the Captain.

"Presidential Candidate on the bridge!" The Master at Arms called out for lack of a better way to announce Nate. The two men exchanged salutes and for a second, Nate just thought of where he would have been had he never taken the uniform off the to join the State Department.

"Daddy, daddy, up!" Tim reached for his dad who lifted him up to watch the Hornet land. "What about you, Jack?" Jack nodded and his dad picked him up too so that he could see. "How about you, Brad?" The child just shook his head from side to side.

"Planes are cooler taking off, dad." Brad answered simply. The child seemed content to just sit on the bridge of the carrier. The Captain, Nate and two of his boys watched the Hornet come down along the glide-path and catch the number two wire.

"That was cool." Tim chuckled.

"It's 1150, Colonel, let's head down to the flight deck." The Captain, the XO, Nate, Charlie and the kids navigated the inner part of the island and eventually they were out on the flight deck where the crew had assembled.

"272 words." Charlie said as they walk to the makeshift stand.

"What?" Nate looked at his friend.

"That's the length of the Gettysburg Address, a short and simple 272 words to describe the Civil War. Keep it short and keep it heartfelt." Charlie suggested as he gave Nate a pat on the back. The deck was silent as Nate approached the microphone and looked out into the waiting faces of the five thousand plus sailors, members of the press and campaign staffers.

"We are gathered here today, on a ship of war, with a heavy heart. In our life we have fought our many struggles as Americans and we have lost many among our brethren. There is no more just cause for our current conflict then that one to which we bore witness on September 11th, 2001. There is no more pressing matter to which the free world must dedicate its attention then the war on terrorism. We owe our respect and our remembrance to our fallen, that we might be able to honour their sacrifice and preserve that very freedom which was attacked that day. We honour them and we dedicate this day of our lives to their memory.

It is the duty of the United States to preserve the freedoms which are the very foundation of our nation. It is the love of every American citizen for this country which emanates our vision unto the world. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, these are the rocks upon which we have built our democracy and they may strike at us and they may call us every despicable term under the sun but they **will not**shake those rocks and they **will not** crack that foundation. That our stalwart lighthouse of democracy has weathered the storms of fascism and communism is no coincidence and we will weather this storm as well. And we will continue to serve as that lighthouse of democracy for the world. I ask all of you to observe a moment of silence with me to remember those we lost." Nate bowed his head and so did everyone else on the carrier. Once the minute was up, Nate raised his head. "Thank you." Then he stepped down from the podium to massive applause from the sailors on the ship. Nate shook hands with the Captain and he saluted him and his sailors, all of whom returned the salute.

"He's good, damn it." Charlie heard a reporter from ZNN say to one from the New York Times.

"He's the future, Stuart, get used to him." The New York Times reporter replied. Charlie and the boys were there when Nate came walking over.

"Two hundred sixty-four words." Nate said to Charlie.

"Yeah well, your war is smaller then Lincoln's." Charlie tossed at him.

2346 ZULU

COATES' APARTMENT

GEORGETOWN

Bax stood at the door with a lump in his throat and his hands at his sides. He had switched out of his uniform before coming and so was dressed in a dark blue suit. He had the sneaking feeling that Jen might kill him, he also knew that if she did, he earned it. Taking the last brave step forward he tapped on her door and waited for the other shoe to drop. When the door opened, Bax swallowed hard and tried not to focus on how beautiful she looked with her hair down. "Hey." He chanced.

"What are you doing here?" She took a heavy but shaky breath.

"I thought we could talk." He started.

"And I thought you did all your talking last month." Jen shot at him trying to hide the fact that she had been crying but he could tell. He saw the reddened eyes and the pouty, quivering bottom lip and he moved tentatively closer to her.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"You've been crying." He answered plainly.

"So? You all of a sudden care whether or not I've been crying?" There was a sharp edge of accusation in her voice.

"I never stopped caring, Jen." Bax answered as he reached up to wipe a stray tear from her face. "I never actually stopped loving you. The only thing that really changed about me in the last month was that I was more miserable and I drank more."

"You seemed fine when you came to JAG today." Her voice was still one of an accuser.

"I didn't feel fine." He responded. "We all put up walls, Jen, so no one sees when we're hurting, everyone does. There's no such thing as complete emotional honesty, just thin walls."

"Why couldn't you just be honest with me? You were so good at it before." She silently invited him in by stepping away from the door and opening it wider.

"I didn't think I could do it without it seeming out of place in a work atmosphere." He answered as he hung his jacket up on the rack.

"You could have slipped me a post-it note or something, or called me." She theorized as they walked over to the couch.

"Truth be told, Jen, I thought the only way I was ever going to be able to get over you was to go cold turkey." He hung his head. "Being near you, talking to you just reminds me of the effect you have on me. You're so warm and so beautiful and so kind."

"And so single?" She supplied. "If this is true, what happened last month?"

"Jen, can't you see? We can't have a future together. I'm not going to resign my commission this close to my fourth star." Or possibly fifth, Bax added in his mind. Harm was right, there were tremors coming out of the Middle East but it wasn't just the Middle East, there were tremors in the Pacific as well and he was in the position to be launched into a theatre command.

"Yeah, and if you'd let me talk before going off into your own self-righteous idiocy, you would have heard me tell you that I was considering not renewing my current enlistment contract. This would have meant that as of November 1st, I would no longer be a Senior Chief in the Navy and you would be off the hook." She replied.

"You have this fine habit of hanging me with my own words." Bax laughed nervously as he scratched his forehead.

"I just give you the rope, you're the one who jumps from the tree." She laughed. "Anything to say, Admiral?"

"Jen, I know I have no right to ask this. But is there anyway that we can pretend that the last month didn't happen?" Bax's eyes were now pleading. He comically sunk to his knees on the floor. "Please?"

"I don't know, Ethan, you hurt me really badly last time and I don't trust someone all that easily." Jen was sorely tempted to just say 'yes' and launch at him but she didn't want to look or feel like a doormat.

"I'll do anything, literally anything, I just know that if I walk out that door tonight with having made the best effort I know how to win you back, I'll be the worst fool on the face of the earth for having given up on true love." Silently Bax was thanking God for four years of English classes at the Academy. "I'll accept any punishment you deem necessary."

"Ethan, get off your knees, no woman likes to see her man beg no matter how positively damn cute you look." She took him by the elbow and seated him back on the couch.

"Your ma-, you mean?" His eyes were suddenly hopeful.

"Yes, I'll forgive you. On three conditions." She raised three fingers.

"Name it." Bax nodded.

"One, you apologize in full and take responsibility for what happened last month along with swearing to _never _even _consider_ doing it again." Coates lowered one finger.

"Done." Nate answered simply.

"Two, we put everything off until November 4th, when my enlistment officially runs out." Jen eyed him carefully and he nodded. "And finally, you have to take me shoe shopping." She laughed when she saw him wince at this last stipulation.

"I'll go one better." Bax offered and Jen was intrigued. "I'll pay for the reminder of your schooling."

"Are you trying to be my sugar daddy, now?" She asked smiling.

"Just trying to make you happy." He smiled at her.

"Well, you make me very happy when you're on your best behaviour." She leaned in and quickly her lips met his. "Enjoy that, because it's all you get for two months." She tossed at him with a saucy wink. Bax had to get up off the couch and head for the door. She blew him one more kiss as he left and he caught it and stuck it in his pocket.

"I'll save it for some time next month." He joked as he closed the door behind him.

0120 ZULU

THE ANCHOR TAP & GRILL

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Bax walked into the Anchor to see Harm, AJ and Sturgis playing pool in the back corner with beer mugs sitting on the edges of the table. Bax motioned for four to the bartender and by the time the Vice Admiral had walked to the other end of the bar, the bartender had slid all four down to him. He walked over and handed out the beers.

"So, how did things go with Coates?" Harm asked as he lined up a shot.

"Surprisingly well." Bax replied. "Things will be better as of November 4th."

"Why's that?" AJ asked.

"It's the day her enlistment contract runs out." Bax explained as he took a sip from his beer.

"She took you back?" Sturgis sounded very surprised.

"Not officially until her contract runs out and there were a few other conditions." Bax grabbed a cue off the wall. "I'm guessing I'm teamed up with the bubblehead?"

"Yeah." Harm nodded. "What kind of conditions."

"I make a full apology and accept complete responsibility for what happened. We do nothing until her contract runs out _and _I have to pay for a shoe shopping trip." Bax explained as he pulled off his patented two balls in one shot.

"So, you're basically married." AJ joked.

"How do you figure that?" Sturgis asked.

"He's taking all the blame, getting no sex and paying for everything. Sounds like marriage to me." The four men shared another laugh at AJ's joke. "On a serious note if you hurt her again, I'll dismember you."

"Ditto." Harm and Sturgis said simultaneously.


	11. Foreign Policy

The last few weeks had been particularly rough ones for the Ross campaign. There were three Presidential debates in this election cycle as was typical for every election cycle. The first had taken place in Charleston, South Carolina and had focused on domestic issues. It was by all measures a draw, Nate hammered home the Democratic plans for healthcare and education but Republican Brent Wayne had hammered home his tax cut proposal and his new, more conservative, family values platform. The thing about a draw in an election is that tie goes to the challenger, not the incumbent and Nate was the incumbent in this race.

After that debate had come the Vice Presidential debate. Senator Grier had scored a redeeming victory for the Democrats in that debate by trouncing his opponent, Governor Adams. The shift then went to the second debate which was a town hall forum. Nate demanded that he face questions that weren't vetted beforehand and so, Senator Wayne had to face the same scrutiny. Nate had fared very well in the town hall debate, his ability to master retail politics, made him a crowd favourite but he had still gotten hit by the silver bullet question regarding his position on the abortion question.

Being a Catholic, he naturally found the practice of aborting a foetus reprehensible. Being a Democrat, he also knew that his party held an almost monolithically pro-choice stance. Once again, he was walking the tight rope. He had drafted a stance that said, while he personally disagreed with the practice of abortion on demand, he would however veto any legislation that came across his desk which made the practice illegal as he believed that the matter fell under the judiciary's jurisdiction after the 1973 Roe .v. Wade decision.

Once again, he had toed the line; he had soothed the conscience of people in his own party while reaching out to independents and moderate Republicans. Of course the Republicans on the far right had accused him of not really taking any position at all and the extreme liberals on the far left of his own party had accused him of selling out his own party's values. FoxNews acclaimed that his poll numbers were in free fall, something which Charlie assured him was in fact not true. They were still within the margin of error of where they had been back in August.

Peach was in her eighth month and by now and she rarely went anywhere without her OB by her side. Nate and the kids were used to having Dr. Sandra Downey around to make sure that Nicole wasn't stressing herself. Nate had on his best Ralph Lauren suit and blue tie. His campaign staff was going over everything with him one last time. This was one debate that Nate didn't need last minute prep for, he'd had more then twenty years of preparation for this debate and now here he was, a week from election day with a firm but not completely solid lead in most of the swing states and the last debate four minutes away from commencement.

"Remember, keep your language simple but if you get an opportunity, don't hesitate to slam Wayne on points. Remember, passion is good, anger is bad, raise your voice if necessary but only if necessary. The people want to see a President, not a pundit; you have to seem above juvenile bickering." Charlie dusted the lint off of Nate's lapel.

"Or I could actually _be_ above juvenile bickering." Nate answered. "For God's sake, Charlie, power down would you?" Nate cracked his fingers and moved toward the edge of the blue curtain.

"Sorry, boss, one week to election night, I've got to have a full travel schedule planned and see if I can shore up our leads in the southwest and Mississippi line." Charlie adjusted his glasses and looked over a few items on the sheet. Nate looked out into the audience with one eye peeking through the curtain. He saw his wife, children and his wife's doctor all sitting in the front row. "Alright boss, show time." Charlie gave Nate a pat on the back. "We'll be cheering for you."

"I hope so." Nate chuckled. He stood there waiting for the debate to begin.

"Hello, I'm Stuart Dunston, your moderator this evening and welcome to the third in our series of Presidential debates. Tonight's focus is foreign policy; the candidates will be asked questions by me, after which they will have ninety seconds to give their response. The candidates have agreed to a cross examination period where their answer will be scrutinized by the other candidate or myself. Ladies and gentlemen, join me in welcoming Senator Brent Wayne and Governor Nathan Ross." Stuart stood as the two men walked out from either side of the stage toward the middle.

Nate shook hands with Senator Wayne before each of them headed over to their respective podiums. The last debate of the 2008 Presidential election was about to begin.

0110 ZULU

THE PENTAGON WAR ROOM

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm came through the doors into the war room. He had never seen the collective brass of the OpNavs office and the COMLANTFLT office in one room before, it was one hell of an impressive sight. It was also one hell of a terrifying sight because it meant that something was very wrong. The CNO was standing at the front of the room looking out at a giant almost holographic projection of the American Mediterranean. Harm saw Bax and the COMLANTFLT commander pouring over figured and stats in an opposite corner of the room. Oh yeah, something had definitely happened.

"What've we got?" Harm asked as he walked up to the front of the room.

"Katyusha rocket hit the port side of the USS Kauffman in the Eastern Med." Admiral Barris answered.

"If you think about it, it's interesting as hell, with the guidance system on that thing it's a surprise that they were able to hit anything at all." Bax came walking over.

"I don't see anyone expressing your level of amazement, Admiral Baxter." Barris was in his usual good mood Harm could see.

"Thank God they didn't hit the carrier or one of the amphibs. They might have hurt a lot more people." Harm blinked up at the screen. "How many casualties?"

"Five, two dead three wounded." Barris answered.

"Where did the missile come from?" Bax asked out of curiosity.

"_Chuckie V_ had her AWACS in the air at the time. Missile came from Southern Lebanon. This shit wouldn't be happening if anyone at the UN had had balls a couple of years ago and sent people in there to forcefully disarm those fucking terrorists." Barris took off his _USS Enterprise_ hat and ran his fingertips through his thinning hair. "Once AWACS picked up the launch, satellites traced the launch vehicle. Fucker ran all the way back to the Bekaa Valley."

"So, what's our recourse, Skipper?" Harm asked, looking at pictures of the _Kaufmann_ on the screen.

"_Kaufmann_ is limping back to NAS Wilson where she'll undergo repairs. I've got the VCNO meeting with the President right now to come up with a course of action." Barris looked at his two deputies. "Rabb, what would you suggest?" Barris turned toward his acting deputy.

"If we know the target, sir. I think we have _Chuckie V_ send up an Alpha Strike and blow it to pieces. Strong message on a military target." Harm answered with a firm nod.

"Baxter, what do you think?" Barris turned his head toward the three star.

"I think we send in the SEAL team on board the USS Donald Cook. They can go in with their H&Ks and just blow the place and everyone in it to pieces." Bax answered with smugly raised eyebrow.

"What a surprise, the pilot thinks we should let aviators handle it and the SEAL thinks we should let a SEAL team handle it." Barris rolled his eyes. "God knows I don't want the Air Force to get this mission, the last thing I want is Top Gun washouts trying to clean our messes."

"Sir, the only way an Alpha Strike can guarantee that we hit the target is if we demolish the target and everything else around it." Bax interjected. "The Israelis do that when they go to war with the terrorists and it only pushes the Lebanese public more toward Hezbollah."

"If we send the SEAL team in, the helo will be detected from miles off and there's no way anyone will be there by the time the team gets there." Harm argued.

"Not if we HALO them." Bax's mouth was obviously on overtime.

"You want to HALO a SEAL team into hostile territory, in the middle of the night, miles from water, without a helicopter back up?" Barris eyed his deputy suspiciously, wondering if the young man had a screw loose.

"Not without one, sir, just a delayed one. If they're quite a few minutes behind the team then by the team is safely on the ground and beginning their sweep of the area. The helicopter will be in place to pick them up." Bax explained his plan.

"It's a risky plan, sir. The helicopter could get shot down before the SEAL team is done their sweep and then the SEALs would be stranded without an escape and we'd have an escalated conflict on our hands." Harm paused. "In a region of the world we once retreated from, no less."

"It's a good plan though and it's an almost surgically precise incision. We could be in and out without anyone ever knowing we were there." Barris raised his hand to his chin. "I'll call over to the White House and have the VCNO sell it to the President and SECDEF. The two of you are to remain here with everyone else and listen to the OpNavs comm. traffic. If anyone fucks up tonight, I want them hanging from a yardarm in my office by tomorrow morning." Barris headed for the door.

"Where's he going?" The Commander of the Atlantic Fleet asked,

"Coffee, you don't want to see Barris when he's gone a few hours without coffee." Harm joked and he gave Bax a fraternal pat on the shoulder with the clipboard he was holding. "You really think sending in a SEAL team is the way to go?"

"Harm, normally I wouldn't send guys into a hot zone unless it was absolutely necessary. The fact is, that an Alpha Strike is messy and it carries with it no deniability. People will see the after effects. We send in the SEALs, anyone who witnesses it will think they're Israelis and we will momentarily make a bad situation worse but no one will ever know we were there." Bax answered as he leaned on the back of a chair.

"You think this will only make things worse between Hezbollah and Israel for a moment?" Harm raised his eyebrows.

"I don't know, we'll let them sort it out though. Our only concern is that they learn one thing." Bax hinted.

"Yeah, don't fuck with the US Navy." Harm concluded and the two men returned their attentions to the screen.

0135 ZULU

UNIVERSITY OF TEXAS

AUSTIN, TEXAS

"Thank you for your remarks, Senator." Dunston had just concluded the discussion with regard to American participation in the World Trade Organization. "Alright, Governor Ross, in 1988 your senior thesis was published in the _New Yorker Magazine_, in your thesis you stated that 'with the developments in Eastern Europe it has become clear that the last remnants of the iron curtain are rusting and corroding. In the coming years, we will see the old Soviet Empire dragged kicking and screaming into the modern age and in their experience of democracy we will be able to evaluate the level of damage which more then seventy years of tyranny has done to their once noble and dignified Russian character.' Governor, based on recent evidence, what do you believe our policy should be toward Russia?"

"That's a very good question." Nate felt like such a tool participating in the political formalities. "What many pundits fail to acknowledge about the Russian Federation is that they are only fifteen years into an experiment that we're still practicing and fine-tuning after two hundred and thirty years. Things aren't going to be _perfect_ right out of the gate. It took us six years to draft a workable constitution. In the first thirty-five years of our existence we fought two major wars with Great Britain and we annexed territory at an alarming rate not to mention repressing the rights of natives and African Americans. What should our policy be toward Russia? We should help them make a successful transition out of eighty years of political isolation and we shouldn't be so quick to judge without an eye on our own history."

"Senator Wayne, your rebuttal?" Dunston turned to face the Republican.

"The Governor makes a good point, but there's no excuse for the way the Russians limit the freedom of the press, there's no excuse for how they conduct their war in Chechnya." Wayne started.

"Senator, we still play fast and loose with freedom of the press in this country, we closed off access to Dover AFB because the administration doesn't like seeing flag draped coffins on ZNN. We were the ones who practically invented biological warfare during our push westward and that was _a hundred years_ after we ratified _our_ constitution. I love our country with all my heart and I'm proud to have served her overseas but what we can't do, is openly denigrate a G-8 country and a possible ally in the war on terror just because they haven't been able to work out the kinks in their system yet." Nate had the points all prepared, he didn't even have to look down at the podium.

"Are we just supposed to forget the forty years of Cold War, Governor? The nuclear threats against our country? The threats to our very existence?" Senator Wayne pushed his question.

"We don't forget, Senator, we can never forget. But we can forgive. And being as you've so touted being a Christian on the campaign trail, that's a premise that can't be completely foreign to you." Nate knew he had him on that one. Brent Wayne stood there for two seconds with his jaw agape before locking it up.

"Well, this seems like a good time to move on to our next topic." Dunston intervened. "Senator Wayne, this one's for you."

0233 ZULU

THE PENTAGON WAR ROOM

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

The room full of blue Class A uniforms looked up at the screen. It looked like a modern holographic radar screen. There were green lines showing national borders and coastlines. Large blue ovals showed the position of US Navy ships in the area including _USS Carl Vinson_, the aircraft carrier whose AWACS had caught the day's activity earlier. It would be morning in Lebanon, there was no way they could send the SEAL team in today. They were going to have to wait at least twelve hours before they could get a team off the ground under night cover. The C-17 would take off from NAS Wilson on the island of Cyprus and by 2100 Beirut time; the SEALS would be parachuting into the Bekaa Valley.

Harm knew the risks of this operation. They were putting SEALS into a decades old conflict that was currently functioning under a tentative ceasefire, which was roughly the equivalent of throwing a few tonnes dynamite into a heavy munitions locker. Right now, their only hope was that no one saw that it was their hand that tossed the dynamite. Barris was the only one not wearing his Class A Blues; he was in Peanut butters with his aviation pin on his chest. The four star was also nowhere to be seen.

Harm and Bax were up front, coffee mugs in hand, thinking about everything that was about to unfold. "Y'ever think that all we do is make bad situations worse?" Bax asked while raising his coffee mug to his lips.

"Hey, they were the ones who fired the rocket at the frigate. You got some problems with killing terrorists, Baxter?" Harm eyed his friend suspiciously.

"No." Bax shook his head and set his coffee cup down. "I have a problem with disrupting fragile peace agreements that have the potential to escalate and cause broader regional conflicts."

"Oh, get off your ego trip, Baxter, you didn't cause this. They fired a rocket that killed American servicemen. You actually picked a course of action that shows distinction between terrorists and civilians and yet you still feel guilty? What the hell is wrong with you?" Harm watched Bax walk over and take a seat. He followed his friend over to the chairs.

"I hate war as only one who has experienced war can." Bax quoted President Eisenhower. "It's shitty, that's the only way to explain it, Harm."

"Shit happens." Harm stated simply. "It's one SEAL strike."

"You know it's more then that. With everything that's going on in that region right now, we both know that this means a hell of a lot more then one SEAL strike. We've got Iran and Syria spreading influence to deal with. There are Kurdish uprisings in Iraq, Iran and Turkey and not to mention that ever prevalent threat of a nuclear Pakistan. We may just be adding enough electricity to create a thunderstorm, Harm." Bax toyed with his white cover.

"When we were at the Academy, did you ever figure that one day it would be the two of us helping to make the big decisions?" Harm leaned forward, his elbows digging into his knees.

"If figured that you and Sturgis would." Bax answered with a chuckle. "Sturgis was the bubblehead and fast-attack dolphin not a boomer and you were a Midshipman-Lieutenant Commander with great grades you were going for your wings. I was just a wannabe SEAL."

"Yeah but you worked hard. You jumped streams successfully; you've got to be one of the few flags in Navy history to be special, aviation and surface warfare qualified. Besides, you and Keeter outrank me and Sturgis, isn't that proof that Navy life rarely works out as planned?" Harm and Bax shared a laugh. "You worked with any of the SEALS on the mission?"

"Nope, it's a new crop of guys. You have to realize, I haven't technically been a SEAL for more then a decade, Harm." Bax got up and headed over to the coffee machine.

"I'm surprised that they haven't called in the Marines yet. The _Saipan_ is in the area, you'd think the boys from Eighth & I would have been down here demanding a piece of the action." Harm returned his eyes to the screen. He saw the destroyer _USS Donald Cook_ reposition so that she was between the carrier and the coast. "Anyone got the name of the Skipper on the _Carl Vinson?_"

"Captain Doug McClure, sir." One of the aides answered from near the back of the room.

"Good record?" Harm asked moving toward the Lieutenant j.g.

"Top of the line, sir." The Lieutenant answered. "XO on _Ike_, Air Boss on the _Big E_ and before that, Top Gun instructor."

"Sounds like one of our best." Harm nodded as he headed back toward the chairs where his friend of almost three decades was looking over records. "What have you got there?" Harm asked and Bax looked up at him.

"Record of the SEAL team leader. Lieutenant Commander Shane Frasier. Good kid, a reputation for being a little more gung-ho then average but he's tough and he's a skilled HALO jumper. I think we've got a good set of guys for this one." Bax rubbed his eyes to get the sleep out.

"But you still feel like shit for making the recommendation?" Harm inquired.

"Yeah." Bax nodded while yawning. "Yeah, I do."

"Bax, looks like it's going to be an all-nighter, we should probably sleep in shifts until it's go time." Harm suggested, rubbing his own eyes.

"That'll be around 1400 this afternoon, right?" Bax chanced looking like he was trying to calculate the time differential in his head.

"That's about right; the object of the mission was to hit them right after prayers so they wouldn't expect us. It's all routine right, someone attacks American interests abroad and we respond by destroying their ability to continue their assault." Harm shook his head. "It all seems a little more intellectually taxing when you're the one giving the orders.

"Yeah, tell me about it." Bax yawned again.

0253 ZULU

UNIVERSITY OF TEXAS

AUSTIN, TEXAS

"Governor, I thank you for your remarks." Dunston flipped over the last page of his notes. The last question of the night had just been thrown at Nate. He'd had to comment on the role that the United Nations would play in American Foreign Policy under a Ross government. No matter what the issue, tonight, Nate always seemed to get thrown the curveballs; he had gotten the questions about Russia, Iran, China and the UN while the only really tough question that had been thrown at Senator Wayne all evening had been hurled on the topic of North Korea.

Being as he was the one with the degree from Princeton as a specialist in Middle Eastern Affairs, Nate had all the questions about the Middle East thrown at him. He took the questions on Saudi policy and on Islamic Fundamentalism policy. As they neared the end of the last hour of the debate, the spotlights had begun to wear on the candidates causing beads of sweat to begin to trickle down their foreheads.

"We're running out of time, in this our last debate of the Presidential election campaign. I would call on our candidates to deliver their closing statements starting with Senator Brent Wayne of Nevada. Senator." Dunston held the pen in his grip loosely and pointed it at the Senator.

"Thank you, Stuart." Brent Wayne placed his hands shoulder width apart in a move right out of the political playbook. "What's at stake in this campaign? The answer is our country's way of operating both internationally and domestically. The Governor and I have sparred tonight on a lot of issues and I'm sure that we've given the voters a lot to think about but I just want to leave you with a few things to consider. America is at this moment, the greatest superpower in the history of the planet, our foreign policy is dictated by the fact that we alone as a nation bear that burden. The fact is, that our ability to act without hindrances from unfocused international organizations when we deal diplomatically with threats to our national security is our prerogative in the role which we have assumed as a nation over the last twenty years. A role which we must continue, so on November 4th, mark your ballot for the Wayne/Adams Republican ticket for President." There was applause from half of the audience at the conclusion of Brent Wayne's speech.

"Damn!" Charlie cursed under his breath backstage.

"What?" One of the campaign workers asked.

"That was good." Charlie shook his head. "Let's hope the so called 'Man from Bethlehem' can pull this one off."

Out on stage, Nate raised his head to look out into the audience and at the moderator. "I thank Senator Wayne for his remarks. Governor Ross, your closing statement please."

"Imagine if you would, a world where there are no mediators. No voices of reason, no objective council. Just a world where there are two sides operating of their own emotions for better or worse. It's not a world we want to live in, folks, because when those emotions go into overdrive, these two opposing sides have no objections to just blowing each other away. I spent ten years at the State Department as a diplomat and three years as Secretary of State, diplomacy is not as simple as saying 'we're right, they're wrong and no one is going to get in our way', the point of any diplomacy is to avoid bloodshed. Bloodshed that is inevitable in a world without a mediator. American foreign policy must protect American interests, there is no way any one wanting to be President can overemphasize that one fact. The President is elected by you, to protect that which you hold most sacred and in doing so, he is bound by his duty to you. A duty which I upheld overseas in the Marines and which I will uphold for you if elected to be your President. On November 4th, as you practice that which is our greatest right, I encourage you to vote progressive, vote for someone with experience protecting your interests and vote for the Ross/Grier Democratic ticket. Thank you." Nate nodded his head, blinked solemnly and concluded.

"I would like to thank Governor Ross for his remarks." Dunston looked up into the camera. "Ladies and Gentlemen, that concludes tonight's debate in the 2008 Presidential election. I'm Stuart Dunston, goodnight." The lights faded behind Dunston and the camera turned to the stage where the two men shook hands with each other as their families came up on to the stage.

1958 ZULU

PENTAGON WAR ROOM

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Rear Admiral (Lower Half) Harmon Rabb paced back and forth nibbling idly on the fingernail of his right index finger. The SEAL team had left NAS Wilson on a C-17 fifty-eight minutes earlier and were now currently over the Bekaa Valley in eastern Lebanon. Normally, the USNSC would be in the Situation Room but the President and his advisors had come down to the Pentagon to watch Operation O'BANNION take place, albeit, their version came courtesy of a large projection screen with fluorescent coloured icons and radio traffic.

The team was now on the ground in the Bekaa and were about six hundred yards due west of the ruins at Baalbek. Harm stood next to the Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Barris who was still in his Peanut Butters and USS Enterprise cap with his hands placed on his hips. "Christ, Rabb, you're going to gnaw that finger off." Barris looked over at his much younger DCNO who immediately pulled his fingertip out of his mouth.

The radio traffic was an excellent narrative of the action that was taking place on the ground. It was graphic in its own haunting way, every shot could be heard count for count. The other news was that the CH-53E Super Stallion helicopter that was tailing the C-130 had just cleared Israeli airspace and was now only about seven minutes ETA from the LZ. The SEAL team on the ground was thorough and they were good at being as silent as humanly possible. Gunshots were rare but they did occur and Harm could swear that he had never heard return fire.

There was the sound of a large wooden door being kicked open and then there was the familiar sound of a rapid exchange firefight. After a burst of about forty-five seconds, the gunfire stopped and there was silence. "Looks like the room's clear." One over the SEAL voices stated.

"Six confirmed, Commander." One of the other ones piped up.

"How many does that make total, chief?" This voice was of the team leader Lieutenant Commander Frasier.

"Seven outside and six in here, Commander, so thirteen total. How many does it take to fire one of those Katyushas, sir?" The Chief asked.

"Less then thirteen, Chief." Commander Frasier answered. "Fan out and clear the other rooms."

The Pentagon war room, which had not ceased bustling for the last eighteen hours was now completely silent waiting for a final report in. Eliminating one terrorist cell was not a complete victory but it was a measured response and this close to an election, measured responses were just about all the President was allowed the leeway to do.

"Two more in here, Commander." The Chief's voice came back on the radio traffic.

"Two more in here, too, sir." Another voice stated.

"Seventeen total, that's about the average cell size. Alright, we're due to rendezvous with the helo in T-minus three minutes, let's get back to the LZ." Commander Frasier ceased speaking and once again, everything went silent until the SEAL team was back on the helo. Once they were back on, the President walked over to the switchboard.

"Admiral Barris, is there a radio channel here that would allow me to communicate with the SEAL team?" President Russell asked looking at his CNO.

"Yes, sir." Barris nodded.

"Sir, the only frequency would be UHF which probably isn't secure. Being as we're trying to maintain anonymity, sir, it may be more advisable to have you wait until the team arrived back at NAS Wilson." Harm leapt in not wanting to jeopardize the mission after it had gone off so well.

"That's a good idea, Admiral Rabb, thank you." The President nodded at Harm. "I want that after action report on my desk first thing in the morning, Admiral is that understood." The President pointed a finger at Harm.

"Yes, sir!" Harm answered enthusiastically and with a smile which caused President Russell to chuckle.

"Alright, I know this has been a long day's journey into night for most of you, so you're all dismissed until 0830 tomorrow morning by my orders." The President addressed the room. "Go home and get some sleep."


	12. Election Day

"It's a good ad." Charlie put a hand on Nate's shoulder. "This whole media buy idea was completely genius. I should have thought of it. I mean, the fact that I didn't, that alone speaks to…" Nate stopped Charlie in his tracks.

"Charlie, stop." Nate got up out of his crouching stance. "I didn't think of it either. Nicole thought of it." Nate let out a heavy breath and looked around. This was the one place in his home state that he loved going to early in the morning just to think. The fog rose off the grass below Cemetery Ridge as Nate and Charlie walked up to the Lutheran Theological Seminary.

"The Governor of Pennsylvania walks the grounds at Gettysburg the day before the election and films this last ad just as the sun comes over the trees in the distance." Charlie was beginning to sound like Robert Frost in Nate's opinion. "_This_ is a Presidential ad. _This_ is what's going to get you elected."

"This brings me to another point, Charlie." Nate stopped walking. "Provided all goes as we hope in the next two days, I want you to be my Chief of Staff."

Charlie looked stunned. He had always expected the boss to offer him something when the campaign wrapped up and he was in the White House, he just wasn't expecting this and if he was being honest, it wasn't a job he was particularly fond of. "We're talking about someone who basically plays Prime Minister." Charlie thought for a second. "I can't do it, office managing and pushing things through isn't my thing. I play politics, it's what I'm good at."

"So be my Deputy White House Chief of Staff. You get to play politics with everyone on the hill and tell me how things are going to play with the press, the GOP and the DNC." Nate gave Charlie a pat on the shoulder.

"That's a job I can take." Charlie chuckled slightly.

"Just remember, if the time comes, you don't get to bitch about having a boss. You wanted the Deputy Job." Nate and Charlie kept walking back toward the car.

"I can live with that, boss." The two men continued walking back toward the campaign bus. The two men were going to have to be in Texas for one last campaign stop with Senator Grier the night before the election, then they would come back to Bethlehem for election night. The next twenty-four hours were sure to be a pleasant trip through indigestion and antacid tablets that would leave a mark on their stomach linings for years to come.

1304 ZULU, ELECTION DAY

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm rubbed his eyes as he padded across the kitchen, his feet thumping on the tile floor. It was Election Day, I day he most dreaded in DC because there would be no point during the day at which everyone who was supposed to be at their post, would actually _be_ at their posts. He was going to vote with Bax before they headed into work. That would count two more votes in Virginia for Ross. In October, the race had gotten competitive and he didn't pay too much attention. He couldn't turn a corner without hearing about swing states and the latest polling numbers. None of it really made too much difference to him right now. He'd known since before the Democratic Convention that he was going to vote for Nate.

The foreign policy debate had completely swung the pendulum of momentum behind the Ross campaign which was now leading a valiant charge in its last days. Harm poured himself a bowl of cereal – one of those healthy, whole grain, Quaker oats concoctions – he ran a hand through his muffled bed hair when he felt arms come up around his waist. "Hey sunshine." He smiled and turned to kiss her forehead. "Sleep well?"

"Harm, I slept naked in a bed where you hogged all the sheets and forgot to close the bedroom window!" She teasingly slapped him across his shoulder-blades. "It is impossible to sleep well under those circumstances." He kissed her again, this time on the end of her nose. "Don't think you can get away with by doing that."

"Well," Harm began to sway the two of them back and forth, "next time you're naked and cold, just wake me up and I'm sure that I could find a way to warm you up." He moved his hands down to her six. "Aren't you glad that we don't have to get the kids up early and turn this place into a zoo at all hours of the blessed morning."

"If you're trying to ask me if I'm enjoying my current reserve status and excess of time with my children, I would have to say yes. I just wish I had something somewhat professional to do, some way to feel as though I was making a difference outside of these four walls." She leaned forward and rested a head on his chest.

"Why don't you try some volunteer work? You know helping the USO or the 9/11 Families Fund or something." Harm pulled a spoon from the drawer and began eating his breakfast.

"I don't know, Harm. It all seems a little compensatory and you shouldn't do volunteer work just to have something to do." She answered as she fixed herself a little breakfast of her own. "Remember to vote today."

"Of course I'm going to vote, you don't need to remind me." Harm rolled his eyes.

"Harm, with your reputation for being late, I feel the need to remind you to prioritize so that you don't miss out on doing something." Mac lectured light-heartedly with a coy smile on her face.

"Hey, Bax and I are going to vote on our drive into work today." Harm answered with his hands in the air as though he was surrendering.

"That's like Ray Charles and Stevie Wonder on a democracy expedition." Mac commented as she took a seat at the table.

"What?" Harm looked up not quite comprehending.

"The blind leading the blind, Harm." Mac answered. "Who are you voting for?"

"There's a reason that they call it a secret ballot, Mrs. Rabb." Harm was now slurping the milk out of the bowl.

"There are no secrets in this marriage, Mr. Rabb." Mac tossed back as she raised the spoon to her lips. She watched as Harm shook his head slightly to his left. "It sill bugs you once in a while when I get you on those point doesn't it?"

"Does not." Harm quipped.

"That was a very pithy comeback, Admiral." Mac was chuckling to herself.

"It doesn't, if it's so important to you, I am probably going to vote Democratic down the whole ticket today." Harm paused for a second. "For the first time in my entire life."

"Really? You've never voted for a slate of Democrats before, even when you were young and at Annapolis?" Mac looked shocked.

"And you have?" Harm raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"My first midterm election in '86 and my first Presidential in '88." Mac smiled. "Not a full slate since then but I've voted for Democratic Presidential candidates since then."

"I learn new things about my wife everyday. I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing." Harm and Mac both got up from the table.

"All depends on where you learn them, Admiral." She winked at him over her shoulder and walked back upstairs swinging her hips in the most exaggerated fashion possible.

0220 ZULU, THE DAY BEFORE THE ELECTION

FOUR POINTS SHERATON

SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS

Nicole was four days passed her due date and Nate was out of town. Not a pleasant things for either of them but something which they grudgingly bore being as they were less then twenty-four hours from polls closing on the east coast. Nate had just made a joint appearance with his vice-presidential nominee where he had talked with an audience for ninety minutes fielding open questions on defence policy, foreign policy and economic policy.

Senator Grier fielded the questions on social policy. That was a general decision by the Democratic campaign, Grier had better visibility and credibility with Texans in general and moderate Texas Republicans in particular. Nate, Charlie and Wes stood in the hotel room in front of a large projection board that had the individual states broken down into those which were solidly Democratic which had been coloured in a royal blue. The solidly Republican states were in a fire engine red and the undecided or close states were in a middle grey.

"So, what are the solidly Republican states according to Gallup?" Nate asked as he rolled up the sleeves on his shirt.

"Alabama, Mississippi, Georgia, Nevada, Vermont, Kentucky, Oklahoma, Nebraska, Kansas, the Dakotas, Utah, Montana, Idaho, Wyoming and Indiana." Charlie didn't even have to look up at the map.

"Okay, well how many electoral votes does that account for?" Wes Grier asked.

"Ninety-nine." Charlie answered and he saw the two Democrats smile.

"They're under a hundred electoral votes?" Nate smacked his hands together. "Fantastic! How many have we locked up?"

Two-hundred and sixty-four, boss." Charlie answered.

"What are the swing states, Charlie?" Wes asked.

"Name it." Charlie started. "Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas, Missouri, Iowa, Florida, Tennessee, the Carolinas, Virginia and West Virginia. Ohio's leaning heavy our way but I still wouldn't call it yet." Charlie picked up his laser pointer and pointed at the board. "Tomorrow night is all going to come down to the Old South. How the ticket performs in Virginia and the Carolinas is going to dictate how your mandate will function. Ideally, we'd take all three but we're trailing by five points in South Carolina and we're only up by two in North Carolina. The influence from the hill, Norfolk and Quantico has us ahead by six in Virginia. Either way, the Old South is going to be tomorrow night's page turner."

"If they go against us, there's always Florida." Nate theorized aloud.

"Not sure how we played with the Castro exiles in Miami but we won major points with the Jewish retirees over our Israel policy. Florida's only three points in our favour and that's within the margin of error." Charlie answered.

"That leaves us with Iowa, Missouri, Arkansas, Tennessee and Louisiana. All of which are states that have gone fore President Russell in the last two elections all of which the Democratic ticket currently leads in by an average of three points." Charlie filled the two men in. "Which takes us to the Southwest. New Mexico is leaning toward us, Arizona is leaning toward them and depending on what poll you look at, Texas is either a half a point in their favour or a half a point in ours."

"Alright, let's get some rest." Nate cracked his knuckles. "Wes, I'll see you Wednesday but I hope to talk to you around midnight eastern tomorrow night and Charlie, let's get some sleep so that we don't look completely bushwhacked tomorrow morning."

1849 ZULU, ELECTION DAY

PENTAGON OPNAVS OFFICE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

The OpNavs office was 'wide open', a term that Harm had coined for days when the Navy Intel liaisons were coming through the door so often that it didn't even get a chance to close. The shit-storm that was a week in coming had come. Hezbollah had accused Israel of taking out that terrorist camp a week earlier which they had claimed was merely "a village of innocent civilians". Al-Jazeera had plastered pictures of dead young kids all over their news broadcasts.

"Well isn't that complete horseshit." Barris walked in behind Harm and Bax who immediately turned around to face him instead of the television. "Baxter, did you talk to Lieutenant Commander Frasier?"

"Yes, sir, he confirmed that everyone killed that night was over the age of twenty at least." Bax answered.

"Well, that's good at least. The thing is that we can't come to Israel's defence without pissing off Lebanon, Syria and then throwing the Lebanese people into Hezbollah's waiting arms." Harm added. "What is Hezbollah doing at the moment?"

"Press scrumming at the moment, no military operations." Barris answered. "I want the two of you on this thing like a starving man on a Christmas ham, you got me?"

"Aye, aye, sir." Bax answered for the two of them.

"And if Hassan Nasrallah takes a stray step outside of Lebanon or Syria, I want you to tell Langley that they've got an executive order to capture the son of a bitch and hand him over to Mossad." Barris turned and headed for the door.

"Wouldn't the President have told the Director of CIA that himself that, sir?" Harm asked.

"He would have, but as of 0200 last night, the Director of CIA is in critical condition at Bethesda because his prostate cancer has taken a very drastic fishtail turn for the worse, so Langley's in a panic administratively. Which is not a problem for us because they only need to be able to get one order through to one operative through at one embassy in Ankara or Amman or Cairo or whatever the hell country Nasrallah is in." Barris walked through the door.

"Doesn't get more plain then that." Bax turned to face Harm. "Thank God this hasn't gone big yet."

"How long before it does?" Harm stated as if this was merely the roadsign before another conflict.

"If the UN troops can intervene successfully then we may have ninety days before Hezbollah can rebuild enough of an armament to take on Israel again after '06." Bax assessed.

"And if the UN troops turn out to be wooden soldiers – as is often the case – then Hezbollah just turns to Syria and the IRGC for weapons which they will of course get and we'll have a much more escalated conflict on our hands." Harm concluded as he played with the rim of his cover.

"_Vinson_ is still in the Eastern Med and so is _Saipan_, that gives us a big rapid deployment capability. If the UN needs someone to cover their ass…" Bax started.

"They have no reason to ask us for the Sixth Fleet!" Harm spat. "Israel is our ally and they play a strategic role for us in the region but they proved in '48, '56, '67 and'73 that they are perfectly capable of kicking ass of their own accord when no one tries to put the diplomatic dog collar around their neck."

"Harm, we can't let this thing blow up. _I_ won't let it." Bax stepped in.

"Bax, I'm not going over this with you again. You are not responsible for what the hell is going on just because you ordered the strike. If Hezbollah wants to kill a few kids and tell them that they'll be martyrs for Allah and then plaster their corpses all over Al-Jazeera there's nothing we can do to stop it and it is completely suicidal to try. The only way to solve Hezbollah is to let the Israelis do to them, exactly what they did to Black September." Harm walked back over behind his desk.

"So, the solution to them killing people is us killing them? Won't that just lead to someone killing us?" Bax responded. "I just get the feeling that this thing is going to spiral."

"If so, this isn't the Casus Belli." Harm answered.

0230 ZULU

ROSS FOR PRESIDENT HEADQUARTERS

BETHLEHEM, PENNSYLVANIA

"Boss, the first results are in from the eastern time zone." Charlie came storming in with the latest reports from their precinct captains in the swing states. "ZNN is calling Virginia, North Carolina, Florida, Ohio, West Virginia and Tennessee for Ross with ten percent of precincts reporting."

"South Carolina went to Wayne?" Nicole asked from her seated position in the chair.

"It did, by eight percent, still not bad for a Democrat, boss." Charlie answered with a wide smile.

"Don't take any thing for granted yet, Charlie. When are the results from the Central time zone due in?" Nate looked over at his Chief of Staff from the couch. Most of the senior staffers were with the Ross family watching the results come in but the rest were in the war room taking stats and calls from field staffers and precinct captains.

"Half an hour for Iowa, Arkansas, Missouri, Louisiana and forty-five minutes for the first Texas precincts. Mountain Time for Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico and the other half of Texas gives us the results in an hour and a half." Charlie answered, reading directly off the page in his hand.

"Colorado? I thought we locked that one up?" Nate was fiddling with the buttons on his cuffs again.

"Wayne spent most of the last week in Colorado. State's one percent in favour of Ross last poll which was thirty-six hours ago." Charlie answered almost mechanically.

"So, it's up in the air? Why didn't you tell me this last night when we were going over battleground states?" Nate rubbed hair on the back of his head. "We focused on the southwest and as a result we've lost Nevada, we're in trouble in Arizona and now Colorado is floating around in the air. What the hell happened to our southwest strategy?"

"We've got California and New Mexico and Texas is at our fingertips and Colorado is a jump ball. No strategy is perfect, ours cost us fifteen electoral votes but we may have picked up forty-eight. I think that's an even trade off." Charlie answered.

"Boys!" Nicole lectured trying to wiggle her way off the couch. "As I see it, this is what is going on.." She turned to face Charlie. "You ran a very successful campaign which gave Democrats a more national representation base and you," she turned to face her husband, "are going to be announced as the forty-fourth President of the United States, an office which is far above the petty bickering which you are currently displaying so if the two of you would kindly cease and desist."

"Yes, ma'am." Nate bowed his head.

"Yes, Mrs. Ross." Charlie hung his head as well.

"Good, now get along." She sat back down on the couch.

"And that, my friend is what happens when your wife is six days passed her due date." Nate and Charlie headed back out to the war room.

0314 ZULU

TURNER RESIDENCE

MANASSAS, VIRGINIA

The night was a special one for Senator Bobbi Latham-Turner. She had been elected as the junior Senator from Michigan for her first term in 2002. The senior Senator from Michigan was another woman, a moderate Republican by all accounts and someone who would have been a standard bearer for Senate Republicans had Brent Wayne won the Presidential election. But the ZNN election desk was predicting a Democratic victory in excess of 350 electoral votes and Democrats were sweeping seats from moderate Republicans all over the country.

Bobbi Latham-Turner was now the Senior Senator representing the State of Michigan. Bobbi, however, was not at her residence with her husband in Manassas where she lived during the months that Congress was in session. She was in Detroit with her campaign workers. Her husband Sturgis and his father and their friends had gathered at their house in Manassas. The champagne was popped when ZNN announced Bobbi's re-election and they were now passing it, along with non alcoholic selections around to the guests.

Election night normally wasn't one for a big party, especially being as only one person in the room belonged to a political party. All the votes in the room tonight had gone one way and according to ZNN, the majority of the votes in the state of Virginia had gone the same way; for Nathan Ross. The whole focus was now on the southwest, being as ZNN had just called Iowa, Missouri, Arkansas and Louisiana for Ross. Colorado and Texas would both need to go GOP or this would be the biggest GOP catastrophe since the Clinton landslide in '92 or maybe even the Goldwater fiasco of '64.

"What do you think, Mr. Rabb?" Chegwidden walked over to stand next to Harm.

"Looks like at least four years of dealing with Democrats, sir. Your brother in law will certainly be happy." Harm kept his response neutral. "What do you think, sir?"

"I think that my son just became the First Nephew and my sister is a member of the new extended First Family which puts me by extension in that sphere. I also get the feeling that there's going to be a dining out next month." AJ laughed as he raised a pint of beer to his mouth.

"Why do you say that, sir?" Harm asked looking over at his old CO.

"Simple, Mr. Rabb, you cannot serve as a military officer while you serve as President of the United States. You have to formally resign and you petition for reinstatement once your term is over, which any President will usually get if they ask." AJ explained almost like a professor. "My brother in law is going to have to file for terminal leave which he will get which means we'll be having a dining out, likely at Eighth & I within the month."

"Before then he's got to organize a cabinet, an executive office and the Democratic leadership. After a year dealing with the administration in the OpNavs office, that's a task I certainly don't envy." Harm shook his head from side to side.

"You're due for a promotion aren't you, Mr. Rabb?" AJ eyed his old protégé knowingly.

"That's the scuttlebutt, sir." Harm chuckled. "I here that I'm either going to be appointed the next JAG, or they're going to make my office at OpNavs permanent."

"Puts you within spitting distance of the CNO's chair." AJ thought aloud.

"What about you, sir, what are your plans? Do you enjoy being retired?" Harm asked, not sure if he was crossing any lines.

"Hell, no, it's driving me insane, Rabb." AJ answered. "My son's in school and I have nothing to do all day but practice my golf swing and baseball season is only a few months long. I think retirement has put me within an inch of my sanity."

"Maybe you should actually do some golfing, sir." Harm suggested.

"In the middle of November, Mr. Rabb?" AJ turned to face Harm again.

"Forget I said anything, sir." Harm nodded and the two men went back to join the other guests. Harm found his wife standing and talking with Bax and Jen who, now that Jen's enlistment contract had run out, were acting a little bit flirty and romantic without letting on that there had been a pre-existing relationship.

"Hey, honey." He slipped an arm around her shoulders and quickly pecked her on the lips. "What are you doing over here?"

"If I had to stand around and listen to you and Sturgis and AJ and the Chaplain talk about politics any more, I was going to volunteer for a firing squad." Mac rolled her eyes. "Really, we voted this morning, we get the point of what's happening tonight, why do you have to bore everyone to death by talking about it?"

"Forget I asked." Harm chuckled as he felt her curl against his chest.

0429 ZULU

ROSS FOR PRESIDENT HEADQUARTERS

BETHLEHEM, PENNSYLVANIA

"We got Texas but we lost Colorado, sorry." Charlie gave Nate a pat on the shoulder. Nate had his tie off an his cuffs rolled up passed his elbows. Nate was getting ready to go out in the town square in Bethlehem and address in excess of 170,000 people who had gathered there. "So, how you feeling, sir?"

"Nervous as hell, ZNN just informed me that in eighty days, I'm going to become the leader of the free world." Nate let out a heavy breath. "Jesus, I can't help but think there's been a colossal mistake made."

"Try not to say that out loud to the public will you?" Nicole dusted off his collar. "Remember, you have an outstandingly clear mandate from the American people. You won four hundred and twelve electoral votes, that kind of win for a Democrat puts you right up there with FDR and LBJ."

"Do I get a three letter abbreviation?" Nate looked over at Charlie with a crooked smile.

"I don't know. Your middle name's Daniel, right?" Charlie looked up at his friend who was walking down the hall toward the big doors that lead out into the square. Nate nodded at him. "NDR? Too close to FDR, we'll work on something for you, chief." Charlie gave him a pat on the back.

"You ready for this, honey? I don't want you to strain yourself." Nate took her hands in his.

"I cleared it with my doctor, I may be overdue but she says I can stand by your side for a few minutes while you accept the mantle of the Presidency that was handed to you by the American people tonight." The two of them stood there looking into each other's eyes and he lightly stroked her shoulders.

"Mantle of the Presidency, huh?" Nate raised an eyebrow at his wife. "That's good, I may have to use that." He kissed her forehead. "You're going to make a great First Lady."

"Why thank you, Mr. President." She kissed him on the cheek and the two of them walked through the doors and out on into the Bethlehem city square. They walked across the street to the steps of the limestone courthouse and Nate saw the people who had turned out and the media who were present at the speech.

"I want to thank you all for turning out tonight. I know that the beginning of this is going to sound like my acceptance speech from the Primaries but I honestly cannot thank the people who came out to vote and especially the people who worked on the national campaign and I really mean it. This campaign would have had all the flight time of a lemming if it weren't for the volunteers and the campaign workers who just pushed on endlessly and made this night possible and I seriously cannot thank them enough. Theirs is a normally gruelling, normally thankless job and if this victory belongs to anyone nearly as much as it belongs to the voters, it's theirs, so let's give them a round of applause." There was a loud thundering of applause that followed Nate's words.

"In March, I said that our real work starts tomorrow. Well, _my_ real work starts tomorrow, most of my staffers get a small breather. Tonight, I have been gifted with a mandate beyond what I would have said a few hours ago was the limit of my wildest idea but the American people deemed me to be a deserving public servant and let's never forget that's what I am; a public servant." Nate paused for a second. "Today we did something. Whether we know it or not, today we changed our country and provided that in the coming months, we are able to unify, as one people with a common purpose and that is to produce a nation of equals. A nation with an education system that doesn't look at the numbers on a cheque before determining the quality of the education our children should receiver. A nation with a healthcare system that, like the government, is run for the benefit of people rather then benefit of big insurance companies. A nation that protects our interests and combats terrorism without the attitudes and the policies which foster it's growth. We want a nation with a responsible energy policy, not just responsible in the sense that it reduces our dependence on our foreign imports but also because we have to reduce greenhouse gas emissions so that we aren't stripping the O-Zone from our future generations and sticking them with global warming instead. Our most noble resource is our democracy, it is our greatest tool in our quest to create an strong and equal America, a dream I believe is shared by all Americans across party lines. Our political differences, while important, are not as central to what makes us Americans. In the end, it all comes to the words life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness and I make it my promise to you that my administration will make it our duty to ensure that all Americans are able to live those things to the fullest extent possible." There was massive applause as Nate side-stepped and held his wife's hand as he raised his into the air and waved to the crowd.

0556 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm was tossing and turning in his bed. Things were going to change but that was nothing new, things always changed after an election. Nothing was going to be the same eighty days from now as it had been yesterday. The House of Representatives now had a majority of 253 Democrats, the Senate now had a majority of 57 Democrats and the incoming President was a Democrat. Nate Ross had a slate to do something real in his administration until midterm elections. What had Harm restless was the fact that his job was uncertain.

He was a one star Admiral who was no doubt about to get promoted, the real question was where to? He felt his wife stir under his arm and look into his eyes as she came out of her slumber. "Hey." She mumbled lightly.

"Hey." He whispered back. Mac always used to say that she never got much sleep but since they had been married she certainly seemed to be sleeping peaceful and was almost always able to get exactly eight hours to the second.

"What has you in a tizzy?" She asked, propping her head up on her hand.

"My job. I'd just like to know if, come January 17th, I'm going to be working out of Falls Church or my current office. I mean, Barris is a former aviator, Bax has aviation training even though he's never flown a plane and the VCNO is in the same situation, meanwhile there are no submariners in the OpNavs office for the first time in sixty years." Harm began to ramble.

"If you were to become the JAG would that really be so bad?" Mac asked as she ran her fingers over his pectorals.

"No, but it would mean less money then three stars and since you went on reserve status, I want to be able to pull the whole weight of bread winning since you're pulling the load here at home." Harm lowered his chin to his chest.

"Harm, you're destined for something, I just know it." Mac smiled she ran her fingers through her hair.

"How do you know?" He asked in a voice just above a whisper.

"Let's just say I had a vision." Mac replied coyly.

0709 ZULU

GOVERNOR'S MANSION

HARRISBURG, PENNSYLVANIA

"Nate, Nate wake up." Nicole nudged him in the shoulder. "Nate!" She screamed and Nate shot up like a rocket into a sitting position.

"What?" He looked over at his wife.

"My water just broke." She said simply and her husband's eyes went as wide as saucers.

"Charlie!" Nate shouted at the top of his lungs waiting for the man who was going to be his Deputy Chief of Staff to come bounding through the door. The President-Elect threw on a pair of pants and grabbed the bag full of stuff he knew they would need for the delivery room before taking his wife by the hand and heading out into the residence. Charlie met them in the hallway. "Have you got the car waiting?"

"Are you kidding? It's been on standby since she passed her due date." Charlie answered as the three of them headed for the stairwell.

"What about my mother in law? Has she been woken up to make sure that she can deal with the kids in the morning?" Nate looked at his Deputy Chief of Staff.

"Already done, sir." Charlie nodded. "Nicole, do you know if it's going to be a girl or a boy?"

"It's a boy!" Peach grimaced as she felt a contraction.

"How do you know, the doctor never told us." Nate looked confused.

"In my life, I have known four Ross women and they are _never_ late and this one is a week late!" Peach answered as they headed out the door to the car.


	13. Marine Corps Mess Night

1523 ZULU, DECEMBER 10th

MCB QUANTICO

QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

"Charlie, I'm telling you that this guy is the best office manager I've ever seen and he's a regular Joe Friday, there isn't anything he can't find out." Nate had the cell to his ear. "He's a regular chameleon, I let him tail Andrew Russell's Chief of Staff for the next fifty days and he'll know exactly what he's supposed to do."

"Yeah, but I'm just not sure he's qualified." Charlie was clearly hesitant.

"Charlie, I trust the guy and you trust me, therefore, have a little faith. Talk to you Saturday." Nate clicked the phone off. The car pulled over and the Secret Service detail got out and secured things before Nate got out. He got out of the car, adjusted the buttons on his jacket and headed for the main administrative building for 3rd Force Recon. Nate strode into the bullpen and watched as the Marines all came to the attention. Nate put them at ease. "Can anyone tell me where I might find Master Gunnery Sergeant Galindez?"

"Yes, sir, the third office on the left." A young Corporal directed him and Nate led his detail that way. Nate looked through the door and saw Gunny hunched over a desk filling out papers.

"You actually are starting to look like an officer, Gunny." Nate chuckled as he leaned on the doorway.

"Sir!" Gunny bounded out of his seat. "Can I ask what brings you to my part of the woods?" Nate walked into the Master Gunny's office.

"Business, Gunny. As you know, I'm going to be inaugurated in six weeks and in that time I have to set up a cabinet, an executive office and endorse candidates in Congress to lead my party and chair committees." Nate sat down in a chair in Gunny's office.

"So why come here if you have to do all that, sir?" Gunny looked up at his former boss.

"Because I need to create an executive office which means I need a Chief of Staff and you're the best office manager I know. Gunny, your Commander in Chief needs you." Nate intertwined his fingers and he watched as Gunny leaned back in his chair.

"I'm not a politician, sir." Gunny answered. "Politics isn't a game I play regularly and as I understand the Chief of Staff job after watching seven seasons of _The West Wing_, I would basically be an executive minister without a vote in Congress."

"Well, that's what the Vice President's for." Nate cut in. "Gunny, I need you. No one knows how to run an office like you. You'd have the White House running like clockwork, I know you. I arranged for you to be able to shadow Gavin Ahrens, he's the current Chief of Staff, until you can get the hang of the political side of things."

"Well, I've got my twenty in." Gunny pondered aloud. "And I would like the chance to do something about appropriations for the Corps and affirmative action." The Master Gunny paused for a second. "Looks like you've got yourself a Chief of Staff, sir." Gunny leaned over the desk and shook Nate's hand.

"Thanks, Gunny. Give your CO notice, tell him if he has any qualms he can call my office. Report at the West Wing of the White House at 0800 tomorrow morning." Nate got out of his chair and headed for the door.

"Where are you headed, sir?" Gunny asked, once again getting out his seat.

"To pick a Secretary of Defence." Nate answered as he kept moving. He paused, sticking his head back in the door. "Gunny, thanks for jumping off this cliff for me."

"Any time, sir." Gunny answered with a smile.

1637 ZULU, DECEMBER 10th

PENTAGON OPNAVS OFFICE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"What's the latest word on the latest chapter in the whole Israel-Hezbollah saga?" Harm walked into the OpNavs office where Bax was watching ZNN.

"It's escalating." Bax commented as he raised the remote.

"Escalating how?" Harm took a seat in front of the TV.

"Hezbollah militants are crossing the border into Israel and doing their best impression of the James gang. They're stealing from the Israelis, hey I guess if they're payment cheques from Syria and Iran are a little late this month they have to get the money somewhere, right?" Bax sounded sarcastic as he threw himself down into the chair.

"Oh, that's absolutely fantastic, what the hell is the Lebanese government doing about this?" Harm asked while trying not to roll his eyes all the way back into his head.

"Telling them to give the money back." Bax began to drum his fingers on the side of the chair.

"What about the UN Peacekeepers that are supposed to be patrolling the border between the countries?" Harm was going over a mental checklist.

"You know UN ROE policy. Don't fire. Even when fired upon, talk don't fire. When a missile is launched at your compound, dive out of the way and still don't fire. It's like having an attack dog without teeth." Bax shook his head from side to side.

"I will never understand the hypocrisy of the whole thing. These bastards launch a missile at a frigate, kill kids to show western sponsored brutality and _we're_ the bad guys? Israel is the most open democracy in the Middle East and we're one of the oldest democracies in the world yet, _we're_ the bad guys. I just don't get it." Harm reached for the bottle of scotch that AJ had given him for his birthday.

"It's a little early for that yet." Bax intercepted the bottle. "What do you think Israel does in response to all this?"

"If they're smart, they keep their fighter planes on the ground." Harm answered. "My guess is Sayeret Matkal or Mossad ends up targeting key Hezbollah leaders in the Bekaa and God knows if they get Nasrallah, it's going to create a power vacuum which is going to draw in more IRGC advisors from Iran which is going to mean terrorists going more on the offensive against Israel and the UN still won't do anything."

"Doesn't that make all of this an exercise in inevitable escalation?" Bax pondered aloud.

"Yes, and right now the most powerful nation in the world is in between governments. Andrew Russell can't push anything through the House or the Senate because the Democrats are tepid about passing anything that might reflect badly on their incoming President." Harm answered. "We have six weeks until inauguration and after that another four weeks for them to get really settled in, so it's going to be March before the State Department is going to be able to do anything diplomatically. So, basically, the Navy is the only hand we have in this crisis and it's completely bereft of all credibility because every Arab nation in the world sees us as Israel's ally."

"So, we're handcuffed but nobody can know that we're handcuffed? Isn't that extremely helpful." Bax began to twist at the cap on the bottle.

"I thought you said it was too early?" Harm asked motioning toward the bottle.

"It's five o'clock somewhere." Bax answered as he popped the cap. "Damn it, this is completely off target. We need something to do here."

"It's just like Iran in '80, Carter couldn't get squat done after Reagan got elected he had to leave it up to Ronny." Harm commented slightly sarcastically. "This is suicide by power struggle combined with the possibility of the power vacuum."

"Ah, the wonderful world of Middle East politics." Bax pulled out the glasses and poured the scotch. "Going to the big Dining Out at Eighth & I on Saturday?"

"I think the entire OpNavs office kind of has to, don't we? Besides, I know the new boss, I kind of have to go I guess." Harm shrugged his shoulders.

1917 ZULU, DECEMBER 10th

SUPERSHOT INDOOR DRIVING RANGE

OUTSIDE OF FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

The Secret Service security detail flanked Nate as he made his way up on to the upper platform. He had called his sister who had told him that her husband was out trying desperately to hit a bucket of golf balls. Nate brought his driver and seven iron with him and headed to the driving range. He found his brother in law swinging ferociously at a Top Flite.

"Your backswing sucks." Nate joked as he stood a few feet away from AJ.

"You come here to criticize my golf swing? You're becoming the Leader of the Free World and all you can think about is my golf swing?" AJ stopped and looked up at his brother in law.

"I heard retirement was driving you mad." Nate chuckled.

"It is, I feel useless and listless, it's not a good combination." AJ took another swing with his golf club. "Why are you here?"

"To offer you a job." Nate replied quickly and AJ looked up at him in surprise. "I want you to be my Secretary of Defence."

"You don't think it might be a little politically sticky being as I'm your brother in law? "AJ asked as he set up another golf ball.

"In 1960, John F. Kennedy appointed his brother as Attorney General. Sure, Bobby Kennedy was qualified to do the job but he was still the President's brother. You're a two star Admiral who had experience as the JAG, a surface warfare officer and a special warfare officer. No one I could think of is more qualified then you." Nate paused. "My dad would have told me to pick you and he would have been right to suggest it."

AJ paused and thought for a second. "I'll do it on one condition." AJ addressed the ball again.

"What's the condition?" Nate chanced.

"I want to be able to name my Deputy Secretary." AJ came out with it right away.

"Subject to my approval, AJ, I'm the President after all." Nate wasn't about to be pushed over.

"I want Tom Boone to be the Deputy Secretary of Defence." AJ pressed his issue.

"Tom Boone……Tom Boone……" Nate was thinking about where he'd heard the name. "Now I remember, Russell had nominated him to be CNO at the beginning of his first term. As I recall, the nomination was withdrawn after a scandal about an incident in Vietnam."

"He wasn't guilty, just mixed up in something that was bigger then the people involved in the ground on it." AJ explained and he his brother in law thinking on it. "He's two star, and a decorated aviator with good connections at the Pentagon and experience in East Asia."

"He's also incredibly Republican from what I've heard." Nate answered. "But he's incredibly qualified and little bit of bipartisan activity would probably be good for us. Can I trust you to call him?"

"I'll call him." AJ nodded. "He may want to talk to you though."

"Tell him to come to Eighth & I this weekend for the Dining out." Nate answered as he and his security detail once again headed for the door.

2330 ZULU, DECEMBER 11th

MARINE CORPS BARRACKS

EIGHTH & I, WASHINGTON DC

Most of Washington seemed to have turned out to the O Club at the Marine Corps Barracks. The Major party leaders from either side of the aisle were there. The President was there, as was the Secretary of State and Secretary of Defence. The amount of uniforms in the room was almost obscene. Mac was pleased, it was the first time in a long time that she had been able to wear her dress uniform. She'd never seen this before, then again, Washington hadn't done it in a long time. Since Eisenhower if memory recalled, that was the last time a senior officer had to retire in order to assume the Presidency.

It was the first time a Marine had ever become President. Something which hadn't escaped anyone who had done the decorating for the night. The place was dressed to the nines in Marine Corps paraphernalia. Marines from all walks of life were gathered her, Mac assumed that most of them had likely served with the incoming President Ross at some point.

President Ross, that was something that was going to take some getting used to. She'd always just known him as Nate. Whether he was the Secretary of State or the Governor of Pennsylvania he had always been Nate and all of a sudden he was Mr. President. Well, he wasn't officially Mr. President until January 20th so until then he was still technically Nate. Mac saw Gunny across the room with a man that she didn't recognize and walked over to speak with her old friend.

"Gunny! It's great to see you here." She gave him a quick hug.

"You too, ma'am." Gunny answered.

"Ah, ah, Gunny, I'm a reservist now, you don't have to 'ma'am' me anymore." Mac lectured coyly. "So, why are you here, Gunny?"

"I work for the President, well the President-Elect." Gunny answered.

"Really? Doing what?" Mac was suddenly curious. Marines were all over the White House, after all they were the 'President's own' but what capacity would Nate need a Marine Master Gunnery Sergeant for?

"Actually, ma'am, I'm on reserve status myself so I could assume my job. I'm going to be the Chief of Staff at the Ross White House." Gunny smiled at Mac who suddenly looked stunned. Gunny heard Charlie clear his throat. "Sorry, ma'am this is Charlie Scott, Deputy Chief of Staff."

"Pleasure to meet you." Mac shook Charlie's hand still slightly dazed by Gunny's admission. "So, you're the White House Chief of Staff?"

"He sure is, Mac, and I look forward to working with him." AJ Chegwidden walked over to join the gathering of people.

"You're going to be working at the White House, AJ?" Mac turned to face her old CO.

"The Pentagon, actually." The Admiral took a sip of the whiskey he had gotten from the bar.

"Really, sir? In what job?" Mac was curious to see how the jobs in the new administration would be handed out.

"Secretary of Defence." The Admiral answered with a nod. "Retirement was driving me crazy and this job allows me to make even more of a difference then I was making at JAG."

"Not often you can say that." Mac quipped. "Any word on the rest of the cabinet or the Executive office?"

"Andrea Wallace, who worked with the Holbrooke team at Dayton in '95 is the new Secretary of State." Gunny started.

"Didn't the President work with the Holbrooke team at Dayton in '95?" Mac asked, roping her fingers around the stem of her glass of orange juice.

"He did. Mrs. Wallace is a Southern Europe expert who can speak Arabic, Greek and English." Charlie answered.

"Mike Bradley, the CIA man who worked with Mr. Ross and Admiral Rabb on the Three Wise Men project seven years ago, he's the President's new National Security Advisor." Gunny continued. "I'm trying to talk him down from his CIA Director appointment."

"Don't tell me that he's thinking about Clayton Webb." Mac chuckled.

"Mr. Webb is well educated and he's got more then twenty years of experience in the US intelligence community including CIA and NSA." Charlie argued only to end up seeing Mac and Admiral Chegwidden roll their eyes.

"He's not known for running the most successful ops in the world." Mac was trying to use her gift for understatement on this one.

"He'd be the director of the agency, as long as he understands classification and threat assessment, he'll have a separate member of the CIA in the position of Deputy Director of Ops." Gunny advocated in favour of Webb.

"Director of the CIA sits on the USNSC with the National Security Advisor and reports to the National Security Advisor on major national security issues. Since our National Security Advisor if a former ops agent and a top flight analyst, I don't see any reason that Mr. Webb can't be the director." Charlie added.

"Oh great, there's two of them." Mac laughed noting how Charlie and Gunny were already acting like a team. "Can you imagine Porter Webb's reaction to this?"

"You don't think she'll be pleased that her son is being appointed to a top political post, Mac?" The Admiral looked to his right at Mac suspiciously.

"Oh I'm sure she'll be pleased he's being appointed, she'll be terrified that he's being appointed by a Democrat." Mac chuckled.

"Especially since she donated the personal maximum to every Republican running in Virginia." Charlie chuckled as he raised his eyebrows.

"So, Clayton Webb is going to be the Director of the CIA." Chegwidden philosophized out loud.

"I thought I heard my ears burning." Webb walked over in a tuxedo

"Did he ask you yet?" Mac asked, welcoming Clay into the group.

"Just got back." Webb nodded.

"What did you say?" Gunny asked as he reached for another glass off a passing tray.

"Director of the CIA? You think I'm going to say no to that?" Webb smiled showing his teeth in a rare expression of happiness. "He's talking with Tom Boone now about the Deputy Secretary of Defence post. I'm more interested in the last two open positions in the Executive office."

"What are those?" Mac asked looking over at Webb.

"White House Press Secretary and First Lady's Chief of Staff." Gunny answered for Webb.

"I heard the two of them fighting about that on the way in." Charlie commented to the group.

"Two of who?" Mac asked once again curious.

"Mr. and Mrs. Ross, she'd had a suggestion for who the Press Secretary should be and he was very opposed to it. I'd never seen the boss get that red faced about anything that didn't involve family or friends." Charlie shook his head which caused his glasses to slide slightly down the bridge of his nose.

ACROSS THE ROOM……

"Johnny-Reb!" Nate gave the familiar Marine a hearty handshake. "I can't believe that you came all the way up here just to come to a dining out."

"Well, you know me, sir." Johnny smiled. "Actually it came down to Sergei and I flipping a coin on who was going to come up here and keep an eye on Anna. I won the coin toss." Johnny-Reb paused. "So, what do you think of the new boyfriend?"

"Miles Cleary, the new Junior Senator from North Carolina? I think he's a pinhead." Nate answered honestly. "I never understood why Anna couldn't pick someone a little tougher, a little smarter, a little more…"

"Like Sergei?" Johnny-Reb ventured.

"Not necessarily. She could pick someone like you." Nate guessed as he hoisted a water glass. "Why didn't you ever ask Anna out anyway?"

"A lot of reasons. Too many for it to be a good idea." Johnny-Reb answered. "You really think Cleary's a pinhead?"

"The guy understands the facts but lacks the passion and the philosophical conviction behind the Democratic social and foreign policies. Someone like that makes a good policy wonk but they're not leaders, Johnny. It takes something real to be a leader, and I think that's the kind of man that my sister needs." Nate pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's the kind of man that my dad thought you and Sergei were."

"I never realized the General thought so highly of us." Johnny-Reb chuckled. "You miss him a lot don't you?"

"I think he would have enjoyed the last year more then anything and I hate that he missed it." Nate answered with a solemn nod.

"It's okay, sir, Sergei and I do our best to torture Cleary and we'll keep it up." Johnny nodded at him.

"If you'll excuse me, Captain Ricker, I need to speak with the President for a moment." Nicole came up to the two men and took her husband by the elbow.

"Of course, Mrs. Ross." Johnny-Reb nodded at the two of them before walking away.

"I'm not the President yet." Nate whispered.

"You're more then just the Governor of Pennsylvania, you're the President-Elect. Now don't quibble with me over semantics. Now, we need to finish that talk about the Press Secretary's position." The two of them walked out into a deserted hallway.

"There's nothing to discuss. I will not have her working in the White House, it's inviting a scandal." Nate argued.

"She's the best White House reporter in years and she knows the Press Corps. She'll work great with Charlie and she's got great charisma." Nicole argued. "There's also the fact that only four people know what happened and it happened before we got married while you were still single so what exactly is the scandal?"

"You make good points but I'm still not asking her. She's here tonight covering the Dining out for ZNN, you want her as the Press Secretary, you have to ask her." Nate challenged.

"Fine, I will." Challenge accepted, point to the First Lady; Nicole thought.

"You also have to pick your Chief of Staff." Nate reminded his wife.

"I've got someone in mind, don't worry about it." Nicole answered.

"Good, now, we've got to get back, as I'm the President of the Mess and my Vice is calling people in." The two of them headed back into the main room.

BACK IN THE MAIN ROOM……

The protocols for a Marine Dining Out were meticulous and had become a tirelessly crafted tradition. There were toasts to Marine divisions who had served in the Pacific in World War Two, the Caribbean between 1899 and 1941 and France during World War One. There were specific dishes representing each of these particularly courageous Marine divisions and there were toasts to the heads of state of all countries who were represented diplomatically.

When the last toast was given to the sitting President of the United States, Andrew Russell, the President stood up to receive the toast. "I want to thank everyone here for coming tonight. It isn't often that we disrupt a military career to let the officer assume the Presidency. In fact this is only the second time in history. This is in fact the _third_ time in history however that a President has been called on to sign off on a Marine career of a member of the Ross family. In 1951, Harry Truman signed off on the career of Marine Major General Horatio Jefferson Ross. In 1993, Bill Clinton signed off on the career of General of the Marines Jack Ross. Now I take pleasure in being here tonight to sign off on the career of Nathan Daniel Ross. I consider this a special treat because I am the first Republican to have ever performed this duty for a Ross but in the case of the fact that Nathan has been elected as a Democratic President, I think it loses some impact." There was a light chuckle in the room.

"There have been a lot of questions asked of me in the last few months and the one I heard most, is how was I able to reconcile choosing between my party and my friend in the November election and the answer I wanted to give but was advised against politically, is that it was never a choice. Nate is my friend and there was never any doubt that I was going to vote for him. I am, I think one of a select few people in Washington who have worked with Horatio, Jack _and_ Nate.

When I first came to Washington, I was an aide in the Eisenhower White House and Horatio Ross worked for the OpNavs as a civilian consultant and I remember that John Foster Dulles sent a young White House Deputy Communications Director out to the Washington Navy Yard to get a report on the situation in Indochina and I remember walking in on a conversation that Major General Ross was having with his old Academy roommate Admiral Arleigh Burke and it was the first real encounter I had with how things worked in the old boy's club and I think it left a kind of impression on the kind of politician that I became because even though they were drinking scotch and smoking cigars and living every possible cliché they impressed upon me a sense of honour and duty and responsibility in that twenty minutes meeting that I have carried with me to this day.

Later, as the Junior Senator from Missouri, I sat on the Senate Armed Services committee when we interviewed then Lieutenant Colonel Jack Ross after the conclusion of the Vietnam War. We asked him about everything that he did in that war and he gave us complete disclosure. He had spent more time In Country then ninety percent of Marine officers in the conflict and had to be pulled off the line twice due to injuries received in combat and when we asked him if he thought we had a right to be in Vietnam, he told us that the second an American life was lost, it would have been a betrayal of our very American ideal to retreat without honouring the sacrifice implicit in that one soldier's sacrifice. When we asked him if he regretted anything that he had done, Jack responded that he regretted only that he could not do more. But that was Jack Ross.

When I met Nate, he was a young upstart at the State Department with a swagger and confidence that instantly reminded me of his father and grandfather. He appeared before the Senate twenty years to the day after his father had appeared before the Senate Armed Services committee of which I was now the chairman. Except now, instead of trying to make sense of a senseless war, a Ross was trying to make sense of a complicated peace. When I appointed him to my cabinet in 2002, I knew what I was doing by appointing a Democrat but more importantly after forty years and three generations, I felt not like I was appointing a Democrat but rather a man who had been raised with a degree of honour, duty, responsibility, sacrifice and honesty all of which meant that he was the kind of man our country could depend on and more importantly _I _ as President could depend on when we were in trouble.

I know, that I'm ranting on. I just want to finish up by saying that I take great comfort in knowing that it's this kind of man that the American people now turn to for leadership. I feel like I'm handing over the grand ship of freedom into capable hands." With that, President Russell took a seat and the room literally erupted into applause and whistling and cat calls. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, no one felt that they could follow the President's speech and no one dared try.

0145 ZULU, DECEMBER 11th

MARINE CORPS BARRACKS

EIGHTH & I, WASHINGTON DC

The band began to play and couples moved out on to the floor to dance. Nate and Nicole shared a few dances before Nate had to go off and mingle again with the crowd and Nicole had a couple of jobs to set up. She walked the hallways looking for two people, both of whom were on the guest list for the evening. She didn't care which one she ran into first, she just wanted this to be over so she could go back to enjoying the party. She saw one party guest that she was looking for, standing across the room with her husband and his friends. Nicole walked over and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hey Harriet." Nicole beamed a smile at her friend.

"Madam First Lady." Harriet squealed slightly.

"Nicole is fine, Harriet." Peach chuckled. "I have six weeks before I become the First Lady."

"Yes, ma'am, of course." Harriet nodded. "Oh, I'd been meaning to ask, ma'am, how is the baby?"

"Harry's doing fine." Peach nodded with a smile. Her and Nate's fourth child and fourth son, Harry Truman Ross had been born at 0412 Eastern Time at St. Matthew's Hospital in Harrisburg. "Harriet, how's life at home?"

"It's a little harder to find things to do other then clean now that the boys are in school for six hours a day, ma'am." Harriet answered continuing the small talk. "How about you?"

"Hectic, we've got this big move coming up and the boys have to switch school districts and we have to get White House staff set up. The whole thing is so hectic." Peach laughed slightly. "Harriet, I wanted to ask you something. Is there any chance that you might be my Chief of Staff? I heard how good a job you did for the Navy Inspector General's office and I need someone with your kind of skills."

"You want _me_ to be the First Lady's Chief of Staff?" Harriet asked, very surprised.

"Master Gunnery Sergeant Galindez is going to be the Executive Chief of Staff for the President and I heard that the two of you have previous experience running adjacent offices." Peach concluded. "You could bring your boys to the White House with you every morning, Secret Service would take them along with my boys to school and bring them back to the White House afterward."

"Sounds like a plan, ma'am." Harriet shook Peach's hand.

"Good, when you have some time tonight, talk to the current Chief of Staff to the First Lady, she'll help you hit the ground running on this one." Peach gave Harriet a hug before heading off to another part of the O Club where the press gallery was located. She walked up to the familiar ZNN correspondent and calmly pulled her aside. The two women walked down the hallway to the patio of the O Club.

"Alright, Stacy, we need to get a few things out of the way." Nicole started as the two of them closed the balcony door.

"It took six years for us to get to this point, I'm kind of surprised it took this long." Stacy answered honestly.

"I don't care about what happened between you and my husband before we were married. I had boyfriends, he had girlfriends, that's natural and it's all in the past." Nicole started. "The last few Democratic administrations haven't been shining examples. Clinton went down embroiled in a personal scandal and Carter went down because he couldn't handle Iran. We need someone who can put out a good message and you're the best White House correspondent around."

"You want me to be the White House Press Secretary?" Stacy ventured a guess.

"I do. I told Nate that you were the best for the job and even though he stipulated to that point, he thought that you being the Press Secretary would just invite scandal. As of yet, no one really knows about the two of you, it was disclosed to the DNC in detail before Nate won the nomination so, it won't break as a major press story. He agreed to you working at the White House, so are you going to do it or not?" Nicole asked, wringing her hands.

"Associated Press says that you've lined up a Marine Master Gunnery Sergeant as Chief of Staff and Charlie Scott as Deputy Chief of Staff. Your Communications Director hasn't been named yet or if you guys have picked one you're not telling anyone. That's the White House that I'm going to be working with?" Stacy raised an eyebrow.

"Derek Morley, who worked with Nate and I at the State Department is going to be the Communications Director. So, are you interested in working at the White House or not?" Peach was pressing her cross-examination.

Stacy stopped pacing and thought for a second. "The White House Press Secretary, huh? Nate's got a real chance to do some good, you know?"

"Yeah, I know that. I also know that he'll work like a dog to make sure that he does good." Peach's tone softened. "I know he's going to need the best of help, too."

"I'll take the job, sure." Stacy nodded. "I'll file with my resignation with the Washington desk tomorrow morning and start working with the new White House office. Do I just find Charlie and ask him to introduce me to my new co-workers?"

"Yeah." Nicole nodded and with that, the two women headed back into the O Club toward the festivities.

IN THE MAIN ROOM……

The song ended and the couples broke apart. Nate stood off to the side speaking with Harm, Bax, Sturgis, Keeter and Bud. Members of the cabinet seemed to have gathered with AJ Chegwidden, Tom Boone, Andrea Wallace, Danny Proper, Mike Bradley and Clayton Webb standing over in the corner near the bar. The White House Executive Office seemed to be congregating as well with Gunny, Harriet, Morley, Charlie, Stacy and Nicole socializing near the head table.

Marine Captain John Ricker floated around the room looking for fellow Captain Anna Ross. He hadn't seen her in awhile, slightly distressing being as he'd promised both Sergei and Nate that he would keep an eye on her. He knew Anna would hate that kind of thing but he felt it was his duty anyway.

He saw her and Miles up by the microphone at the head table and immediately sprinted across the room to find Nate who, Johnny-Reb noticed, seemed to be enjoying his last night wearing the Marine Dress Blues. "What the hell is pinhead doing?" Johnny-Reb asked as he tapped on Nate's arm and pointed up to the podium.

"I have no idea. Nothing was cleared by me, I can ask Charlie though." Nate motioned for Charlie to come over and join them. "Charlie, did pinhead…I mean Senator Cleary run anything passed you about using the microphone?" Nate asked somewhat urgently.

"No, sir, I can honestly say that I hadn't heard anything." Charlie answered his boss.

"Well, get him out of there, would you?" Nate pressed just as urgently.

"What's Anna doing up there with him?" Johnny-Reb pondered aloud.

"They've been dating for what? Seven months? Kind of natural they'd be side by side at this kind of thing." Nate responded half-heartedly.

"Yeah, but boss you know how much your sister hates being anyone's arm candy." Reb was quick to answer.

"True." Nate paused when he heard the sound of a finger tapping on the microphone and everyone looked up to the front.

"I know this is supposed to be a dining out but there's something I need to get off my chest." Cleary began speaking into the microphone.

"Charlie, get him out of there!" Nate demanded in a harsh whisper.

"For the last seven months I've been dating a wonderful woman and with all the changes in my life recently, she's stood with me and it's rare that you find someone like that." Cleary continued and by now Charlie was bounding across the room to get up to the podium.

"He's not going to do what I think he's going to do." Nate muttered under his breath.

"Want me to take him down, sir?" Reb asked.

"If necessary, Captain." Nate chuckled.

"Anna." Cleary turned to face her and got down on one knee. "Will you marry me?" All action in the room stopped. Pity, Nate thought, Charlie was almost to the podium. Another few seconds and he would have stopped all this.

"Oh, Miles." Anna sounded tender but not overwhelmed as one might expect a woman to sound after having been proposed to. Nate was half expecting to hear 'no' or 'I don't know' or something like that. "Yes, I'll marry you."

"She sounded almost reluctant." Johnny-Reb remarked as the crowd broke into applause.

"She was, this engagement is going to be hell." Nate rolled his eyes.

Back across the room, Harm and Mac were standing side by side. "Sergei's not going to like this when he hears." Harm said to his wife.

"He's going to hate this. _And_ he's got control over a SuperCobra helicopter, I'd hate to be that young man if Sergei's anger gets the better of him." Mac raised her glass of tonic water to her lips. "Do you get a distinct feeling of déjà vu?"

"So much so that it's eerie." Harm answered and the music started up again.


	14. I Love An Inaugural

It was January 20th. Inauguration Day. The end of one Presidency and the beginning of another. The Executive Office of the White House was buzzing. The Russell administration had finished moving out by 0500 this morning and while for the next two hours, Andrew Russell was technically still the President of the United States, all decisions were being deferred to the Executive Office of the incoming Ross administration. Gunny couldn't believe it, no more then ninety days ago, he had been a Marine Master Gunnery Sergeant looking down the barrel of retirement. Now, he had an office next door to the President of the United States and he ran the Executive Office of the White House.

He didn't have time to stop and think today though. He was running around trying to get everything set up for the inauguration. He had to have the Chief Justice in place on the Capitol steps at a certain time, he had to make sure that the DC Police had the barricades set up along the side of Pennsylvania avenue, he had to accommodate as many members of Congress as possible as well as keep in touch with the staff of the outgoing President and the incoming Vice President to ensure that everything was going according to plan.

He may have never been a General but Gunny certainly felt like he was running a high stakes military op. He also had to get used to being called 'Vic' or 'Victor' being as no one who now worked for him wore a uniform. The only people who still called him Gunny were the President and the people who had known him from JAG. Most of the folks who worked for him at the White House, Morley and Stacy included had taken to calling him 'Boss', which was something of an ego stroke so he didn't mind it quite as much.

"Alright people!" Gunny collected the attention of everyone in the bullpen in The West Wing of the White House. "We've got a little more then ninety minutes until the inauguration. Let's do a final rundown. Stacy, what kind of Press Corps is the President going to be facing with regard to his speech today?"

"ZNN is optimistic, MSNBC is cautious and FOXNews is hostile but what did we expect? We're Democrats and they're FOXNews." Stacy answered as she then continued on the phone. "We also have inquiries from the Daily Show and the Colbert Report, they want to know if we can spare someone from the administration to give them an interview tomorrow night."

"President loves the Daily Show, watches it every night, so does the First Lady." Gunny paused for a second. "Let me talk to Harriet Simms-Roberts over at the First Lady's office, I'm willing to bet the First Lady would do the show."

"You want to subject the First Lady to Jon Stewart?" Morley asked with a raised eyebrow, temporarily pausing the movement of his pen across the paper.

"She's a trooper, got a great sense of humour and a great ability to give and take." Gunny answered, he'd taken his time to get to know the First Lady over the last few months so that he could do his job more effectively. "Alright, Morley aren't you supposed to be with the President going over his inauguration speech?"

"Faxed it over to him this morning at 0500, he told me that the First Lady would be helping him with it." Morley answered.

"Hey, Vic, you might want to check this out." Charlie turned up the volume on the TV in the bullpen. Action paused and everyone looked up at the TV.

_"This is Chuck DePalma reporting live from Moscow, last night scored a big victory for reformers in the Russian Parliament as they were able to pass a bill forcing the resignation of ultra-Nationalist President Vyacheslav Zandovych. The reform bloc in the parliament then approached former Federal Security Service head Nikolai Petrov and asked him to assume the Presidency which he will run for in an election that will take place in early February." _ The TV was muted again and there were a few smiles in the room.

"This is good for us people, Russian reformers are American allies." Gunny instructed the room.

"Vic, it's not just that. Nikolai Petrov was the President's roommate at Princeton, the two of them have known each other for a quarter century." Charlie added. "This is great press for us."

"You think we motivated this?" Stacy asked.

"No doubt. The President's election victory in November got huge international press and initiated a rising tide of Pro-Americanism in Europe." Gunny concluded as he headed for the door. "Alright, people, be ready to parade with the President up Pennsylvania avenue today. She's colder then a well-digger's wallet out there so dress accordingly."

"Boss, are you going to talk to the First Lady about the Daily Show?" Stacy asked as Gunny headed out of the West Wing.

"On it!" Gunny shouted back to her as he pulled his cell out of his pocket.

SAME TIME

OLD POST OFFICE BUILDING

WASHINGTON, DC

Nate paced from side to side wringing his hands. His staff was supposed to be here, damn it. He had never felt so nervous in his whole life. Alright, that might not have been true. Harm had needed to slap him……several times, the morning of his wedding to Nicole. He had the inauguration speech in his pocket, he had read it over several times. It was a good speech. It had taken Charlie, Morley and himself most of the last week to write, so it had better be a damn good speech.

Harriet was with the First Lady and the two of them were going over her schedule for the next week. Bud had taken the kids down to the spectator pit in front of the Capitol Building where they were standing with the Rabbs and Turners. "Ma'am, I've got Victor on the phone, he wants to know if you'd be willing to do the Daily Show tomorrow night." Harriet covered the mouthpiece of the cell.

"What do you think, honey?" Nicole turned toward her husband who was once again reading over his inaugural address. "Nate!" She said emphatically, drawing her husband's attention.

"Honey, you love watching the Daily Show, if you want to go on tomorrow night. I think it's a great idea." Nate was smiling from ear to ear.

"Tell Victor to have it booked." Peach too was smiling as Harriet uncovered the bottom of the cell phone and continued talking to Gunny. Nicole walked over and began rubbing her husband's shoulders. "Calm down would you? You're just setting an agenda for four years while simultaneously addressing the entire nation in a speech that will only be broadcasted on a loop for the next twenty-four hours, make massive international news and set the tone for the next four years of your Presidency." She stopped for a second to let it all sink in. "No big deal."

"Yeah, Nathan, calm down." The voice of Eileen Ross came in from the door along with the forms of three running five year olds. "I couldn't keep them asleep any longer." Eileen walked over to her son and daughter in law and handed over the youngest and newest addition to their family, Harry.

"How did he sleep?" Nicole addressed her mother in law. "Got up every two hours. Thank you for preparing the bottles before leaving this morning, they were a lifesaver." The two women shared a laugh over this.

"Now, Mrs. Ross, would you please calm down your son? I've never seen him shake and sweat this much."

"It's hot in here." Nate answered for himself.

"It's January, Nate." Peach answered, shattering her husband's rationalization. The staff came in on the heels of the elder Mrs. Ross.

"We're here, Mr. President." Gunny announced, catching his breath after jogging up the stairs.

"I can see that, Gunny." Nate answered. "Alright, have we got everything set up for the inaugural, guys?"

"Everything's all set, sir. I just did a final run through." Gunny nodded.

"Sir, you may want to know that the Russian government just staged something that was halfway between a non-confidence vote and a military coup." Charlie began to explain.

"What do you mean, Charlie?" Nate looked up from the folder with his speech to his Deputy Chief of Staff.

"The Reformers in the Russian Parliament drafted a resolution that passed last night that called for President Zandovych to tender his resignation. In the interim until the February election, Nikolai Petrov is the President of Russia." Charlie finished and bit his bottom lip. "Apparently, they wanted a reformist President with the allegiance of their intelligence services and close ties to the new American administration."

"You're telling me that the two men in charge of the world's two biggest nuclear stockpiles, lived in the same Princeton dorm room in the mid eighties?" Nate rolled his eyes. "Now I know we're in trouble." He joked.

"Alright, sir, the motorcade's ready. We're a go." With that, the White House gang headed out of the building toward the motorcade that would take them to the Capitol.

SAME TIME

US CAPITOL BUILDING

PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE, WASHINGTON DC

"Mommy, when's the President going to be here?" Sasha was sitting on her father's shoulders.

"Soon, honey, can't you see the long black limos coming up the street?" Mac pointed so that her daughter knew where to look.

"Mommy, why are we here?" Tommy asked before his sister had the chance.

"To cheer on your uncle Nate. He's the President now." Mac answered as she bounced her son on her shoulders.

"No, he's not, he's just uncle Nate." Sasha teased with a giggle.

"Why don't you guys ask me any questions?" Harm teased his kids in a slight whining voice.

"Because, daddy, mommy knows everything." Sasha answered her father with a cute smile showing the first hole from the tooth she had lost earlier in the week. Mac had to chuckle at her daughter's bravery in answering Harm.

"That is one smart girl, Mac, I see her with a few stars on her shoulders some day." Bobbi Latham-Turner and Sturgis Turner came up next to the Rabbs.

"She certainly has you pegged, Harm." Sturgis gave Harm a playful slug to the shoulder.

"Yeah, well just wait until she gets to know you a little better, Turner." Harm was smiling a full flyboy smile.

"I know Uncle Sturgy." Sasha protested. "Bubbles!" The child pointed at Sturgis.

"You can't keep a nickname to yourself, Rabb?" Sturgis crossed his arms in front his chest and gave Harm a very serious look.

"She asked." Harm chuckled. "Could you say no to that face?" Sasha made a pouting face at her godfather. It was hard to say no to Sasha. She looked just like her mother must have looked at that age. The same hair colour, the same skin tone, the same smile, the only difference was her eyes which were a unique and distinctive Rabb characteristic.

"Alright, fine, did you tell her about some of the stunts that Keeter and Bax pulled at the Academy?" Sturgis asked, smiling just remembering the 'good old days'

"Those stories are PG-13 for Tommy, rated R for my little girl." Harm answered, pointing at Sturgis in a firm warning.

"Hey, Harm, that's sexism." Bobbi was quick to jump in.

"Yeah, well when she's old enough I'll let her file a complaint with your office." Harm rolled his eyes slightly.

"I have to agree with her, Harm. You would tell Tommy before you would tell Sasha, why?" Mac looked up at her husband with a playful annoyance.

"Because, Tommy's a guy, Mac. And our stories from the Academy are guy stuff just like shoe shopping and other things are, you know, woman stuff." Harm covered and Sturgis was left to shake his head.

"Woman stuff, Harm?" Mac raised an eyebrow at her husband, Bobbi crossed her arms and looked up at Harm as well.

"I mean, uh, I mean…" Harm reached up and scratched his head.

"Sir, you may want to stop there before you do any more damage." Bud intervened for which Harm was very grateful because things were beginning to look ugly for him. "Look, sir, the motorcade is coming." Bud pointed over the crowd to where the parade was passing with the presidential motorcade in the middle.

"Dad, where's mom?" Little AJ asked looking up at his father.

"She'll be getting out of the limo with the President and the First Lady." Bud answered as nine year old AJ stood next to his father.

"Mommy's job is so cool, dad." AJ was smiling from ear to ear.

"What about my job, AJ?" Bud asked, suddenly feeling slightly deflated.

"Oh dad, the Navy's awesome, but mom works for the President, and he's like, well he's the President, dad!" AJ was hopping up and down trying to look over the crowd. When Nate and his entourage of family, staff and secret service climbed the steps of the capitol toward the inaugural platform there was massive applause.

"How do you intend to keep the kid's attention during the speech?" Mac whispered to her husband.

"Sasha has her Game Boy, I don't know what we're going to do about Tommy." Harm looked up at his son, perched atop Mac's shoulders, who seemed amused but slightly drowsy. "Maybe he'll fall asleep."

"Yeah, and with your luck today, that picture will be all over the news tonight." Mac laughed as everyone turned their eyes up to the platform, the Chief Justice and the swearing in.

On the platform, Nate and Wes Grier were standing across from the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. As per tradition, the Vice President was sworn into office first. Daisy Grier stood between her husband and the Chief Justice, it was her job to hold the Bible for the oath.

"Raise your right hand, put your left hand on the Bible and repeat after me." The Chief Justice ordered. He ran through the oath and the Vice President repeated.

"I, Wesley Garner Grier, do solemnly swear that I will defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic, that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same: that I take this obligation freely and without mental reservation or purpose of evasion and I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God." With that, the Chief Justice nodded at him and shook his hand to congratulated him. The Vice President stepped aside as four ruffles and flourishes followed his oath along with a playing of _Hail Columbia_.

The Bible was handed to the First Lady by the honour guard and Nicole took her place standing between her husband and the Chief Justice. "Raise your right hand, put your left hand on the Bible and repeat after me." The Chief Justice instructed and Nate followed the protocol. The Chief Justice started and Nate repeated as he was told.

"I, Nathan Daniel Ross, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States. So help me God." Nate let out a deep breath.

"Congratulations, Mr. President." The Chief Justice shook his hand.

"Thanks, Bill." Nate nodded and turned toward the podium and microphone. The President's Own Marine Corps band played four ruffles and flourishes and a round of _Hail to the Chief_ before the howitzers of the military district set off a twenty-one gun salute. Nate then approached the podium with his speech folder in hand, Gunny having handed it to him during the round of _Hail to the Chief_ and he licked his lips before standing up to the microphone.

"Good afternoon my fellow Americans." Nate started. "It is the duty, as was just stated in my oath of office that I am to preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States. In the preamble of that, our most treasured of parchments, it states that the aim of the founding fathers was to "establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare", in this I hope to set the spirit of this administration. Naysayers will call these goals lofty and vague but such must be our most noble purpose for as was just established, we are not merely to enjoy the spirit of our great nation but also to preserve it's ideals and act as standard bearers for its principles.

America faces many a great peril with regard to the goals of our Founding fathers. To establish justice we must crack down on violent crime in our cities and in doing this we must take all necessary steps to provide our law enforcement with every opportunity to do their job safely and securely America faces many a great peril with regard to the goals of our Founding fathers. To establish justice we must crack down on violent crime in our cities and in doing this we must take all necessary steps to provide our law enforcement with every opportunity to do their job safely and securely

To insure domestic tranquility, we must overcome those partisan and ideological divides which we have faced over the last year. For as Americans we do share common goals and when all things else may fade away it is these things which remain. We all wish to leave a safer more peaceful world for our children, we all wish to end the injustices of our society and we all strive to add our own little stroke of greatness to this, our great republic.

We must provide for the common defence of our nation, of that there can be no doubt. As Americans, we are among the luckiest citizens of this new global community because we have so many men and women who put their lives on the line for our nation everyday and they ask nothing in return other then the tools and equipment to make their job safer so that they may perform to the best of their abilities. Every sacrifice that they make and every tear that we shed for a live that is lost is a shared contribution to a greater goal, that of a safer more secure world for all. Those living under the vengeful and forceful hand of tyranny must be looked upon the same as our allies who live with the freedoms offered to them by a democratic state. Complacency and apathy are as dangerous to the moral character of our nation as hatred and abuse of power and that we must exist in a realm between these two extremes is a careful balancing act indeed but I have never met a people more willing to accept so great and noble task on the behalf of their fellow man.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, we must provide for the general welfare of our fellow Americans here at home. With unemployment rates climbing, however slowly, with the number of Americans without health insurance and without a high school diploma also slowly climbing, we are in the middle of a crisis of social conscience in this country. The solutions to our poverty crisis, to our economic crises must be education, must be health treatment and must be an increased wage for the working class. The links between the lack of education, the lack of mental health treatment and poverty to violent crime can no longer go ignored. If we really want to feel safe and secure in our own homes we must have a society where money doesn't guarantee someone a right to better health or better education. We must have a society where the people doing the work on our factory floors, in our services industries are earning a living wage that enables them to actually live. The era of the American dream being for sale only to those who can afford it has to or we are traitors to the spirit of our democracy and the ideals of our nation as set out by our founding fathers. With our most serious of concerns and our most grievous of challenges can come our most satisfying of rewards. Thank you, Ladies and gentlemen."

There was a fast silence that was followed by a wave of applause as Nate closed the folder. The President and Vice President had to go to the White House for a luncheon with the Congress so the First Family, the White House Senior Staff and the Vice President walked down the west steps of the Capitol toward Pennsylvania avenue and began their walk to the White House.

0112 ZULU

THE INAUGURAL BALL

WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

The monkey suits abounded at the inaugural ball. Secret Service were at every entrance. Every member of the top Washington brass was there from the Joint Chiefs to the CENTCOM and the OpNavs office. Members of Congress were there and a few select tickets had been handed out by the President. Two tickets in particular had been handed out to two junior Marine officers from the Second Air Wing. First Lieutenant Sergei _'Ivan' _Rabb and Captain John _'Johnny-Reb'_ Ricker were perusing the selection of women at the party. Young, available congresswomen, executive secretaries and junior officers assigned to top Washington billet stations were plentiful at this particular gathering.

Only Reb was paying attention though. Sergei seemed to have his eyes fixed on a woman across the room in a sleek floor length dark blue dress who was currently attached to the arm of a certain Junior Senator from North Carolina. "Don't focus on it, man." Johnny warned Sergei as the two of them leaned on the bar. "You'll drive yourself nuts."

"I was a fool, Johnny." Sergei grunted as his grip tightened around the glass in his hand. "A damn fool."

"Maybe, but what are you going to do now? What can you do?" Johnny was always one to try and work a friend out of a rut.

"Exactly what I did this week." Sergei replied cryptically.

"Oh God, what did you do? Tell off your CAG?" Johnny suddenly felt his stomach sink slightly.

"No, I put in to fill a vacancy on board the _USS Bataan_. They need a SuperCobra pilot and I need to get the hell out of the States for a while." Sergei answered as he leaned on the bar facing away from it.

"How long are you going to be gone?" Reb furrowed his brow, he knew this wasn't good. Most of the cruises were about six weeks out by this point and the _Bataan_ was going out as part of the _Truman_ Battle Group to the Eastern Med.

"Four Months. By the time I get back, Anna will be married and I can transfer out to Twenty-Nine Palms and forget I ever knew the name Anna Ross." Sergei downed another shot of Jack Daniels.

"She just wants you to be happy for her, man. I know what happened between the two of you, I was with you on your first day at the Academy remember?" Johnny tried to work his friend back to sanity. "You two have served under separate commands for most of the last five years, you had chances to get it together legally and you couldn't. Sometimes, you've got to stopping pining for lost chances."

"That sucks, Johnny." Sergei ordered a shot of vodka this time. "Make it two." Sergei ordered the bartender. "Make them tall ones, too."

"Ease up, man, you only got one liver." Johnny chuckled with a noticeably worried tone. He saw Sergei's eyes meet Anna's across the room. Anna came walking over toward two of her oldest friends, leaving the arm of Miles who seemed to notice immediately and went to intercept her. There weren't many times that Anna would thank God for her brother's protective streak but this was definitely one. Nate noticed the exchange and moved to intercept Senator Cleary.

"Senator!" Nate called from ten feet away. "I want you to meet Senator Williams of Missouri, he's the Majority Leader and your new peer on the Finance committee." Miles was stuck. As a Democrat, the two leaders of his party were the President and the Senate Majority Leader along with the Speaker of the House of Representatives, all of whom were congregated and had called them join him. His ambition overwhelming his jealousy and possessiveness he turned on heel and headed over to the conversation. Nate gave a nod and a smile at his sister who silently thanked him.

"You might want to ease up on that, that vodka's young yet." Anna joked as she joined them and even Johnny had to offer a smile.

"I don't need any warnings, I already feel like a train wreck, at least if I look like one I'll be a matching pair." Sergei chuckled slightly. "Besides, who do you think you are, telling me what I can and can't do?" He demanded angrily. Reb immediately put his hands on Sergei's shoulders to brace him down against the barstool.

"Sergei, you're drunk." Anna cautioned, to the point where her tone bordered on lecturing.

"Maybe, I'm finally thinking clearly." He slurred as he finished his second tall shot.

"Maybe, you've had enough." Anna slid the shot glass back down the bar to the bartender.

"Yeah, maybe I've had enough of you!" Sergei spat angrily. Johnny's eyes went wide and Anna's filled with tears the she refused to let fall. "Go! Would you? Just get out of my sight." With that, Anna headed out through the doors toward the White House lawn and Sergei went to return to the bar but Johnny-Reb took him by the collar.

"You want to be miserable and angry, you be miserable and angry on your own time. I expect you to treat Anna with the respect and courtesy due a lady, do you understand me, Lieutenant?" Reb's face was a dark crimson.

"Yes, Captain." Sergei tried to square up.

"Good, now you will go apologize to her profusely and if you're lucky, maybe she'll grace you with her forgiveness.." Johnny pulled Sergei off the barstool and pointed him toward the door. Sergei stumbled out the door to chase after Anna. Senator Miles Cleary had broken away from the group long enough to head for the door as well, but Reb intercepted him.

"Let them talk, Senator, what harm could it do?" Johnny cajoled.

"Get out of my way, Captain, or I'll have your railroad tracks." Cleary threatened.

"You could add mine to the list then." A new voice was heard and a friend joined Johnny-Reb in blocking Cleary. Lieutenant Mikey Roberts had just gotten in from an extended tour on board the _USS Carl Vinson_ and he was making his presence known right away. "Senator, no one has ever taken on the Navy and Marines solo and gotten out unscathed." Mikey warned Cleary backed down and headed over to the conversation he had just left. "You want to tell me what happened between Anna and Sergei since I left?"

"Maybe over a beer." Reb chuckled as he gave Mikey a pat on the back and they bellied up to the bar.

"How long ago did it start this time?"

"About eight or nine months." Reb answered.

"Better tap the keg, Bartender." Mikey joked as the two friends continued to talk.

Out on the White House lawn, Anna Ross had taken a seat on a bench and continued to let the tears flow down her cheeks. Damn him, she had tried to open up to him, hadn't she cancelled a date or two with Miles back in the summer to teach him how to backseat an F/A-18? Hadn't she tried to keep things open? What had she done to earn his wrath? All she had done was try to earn a little piece of happiness for herself. Was that so bad?

"Is this seat taken?" Sergei asked as he lowered himself down next to her.

"Do you feel the need to malign me a little more?" She asked.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. Things just seemed to happen so fast." Sergei attempted to explain. "You know the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you."

"I used to believe that Sergei, I really did." Anna sniffled. "Except the last year seems to have been just one big hurt where you're concerned."

"I'm sorry for that, for all of it." Sergei began. "I really am, you have to believe that I never honestly meant to hurt you. Inside, I was drunk, I lashed out."

"Why did you lash out at me? I wasn't trying to upset you." Anna turned to face him. Sergei could see her tearstained cheeks.

"I've been upset about a lot of things lately." Sergei got up from the bench and began to walk down the cobblestone path. "I'm taking a break to get away from it all, but I want to know we're okay before I go."

"Before you go? Where are you going?" Anna got up and followed him down the path.

"Joining up with the Air Wing attached to the 24th MEU onboard the _Bataan_." Sergei rubbed his hands together to warm them up in the January cold.

"The cruises just started, how long are you going to be gone?" She caught up with him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"About four months." Sergei wouldn't look at her but he could feel the shock emanating from her.

"Four months! You'll miss the wedding." She tried to keep pace with him as Sergei broke into something of a power walk.

"It's just as well, I suppose." Sergei muttered aloud. She was able to decipher what he'd said having only missed a few syllables.

"Why's that? Are you telling me that you _want_ to miss the wedding?" She was torn between being seriously offended and seriously hurt.

"I just don't think he's any good for you. We both know the type of guy he is, Anna." Sergei turned to face her again, stopping instead of continuing to trot away.

"No, tell me, what type of guy is he, Sergei?" She was a little pissed off that he'd climbed on to that moral pedestal that he got from time to time.

"You know what, never mind, what kind of man you want to marry has no effect on me." He was lying through his teeth and praying that she wouldn't catch on.

"I just wish the two of you would get along." She stated in a softer tone.

"Do you love him?" He had realized that in all the time he had seen her with Cleary, the Senator had said those words plenty of times, each one, in Sergei's mind at least, sounded more like a declaration of possession then of genuine feeling.

"I'm marrying him, Sergei." Anna replied in a desperate evasion.

"A statement which means very little. Fifty percent of marriages in this country end in divorce." Sergei brushed off her non-answer. "Do you love him?"

"Why do you want to know?" By this time the two of them were walking again.

BACK INSIDE THE WHITE HOUSE…

Nate took to the stage where the band had been playing. "Alright, I had the Executive office hand me the demo tape of a local band that had the chutzpah to actually try and get a gig at the inaugural. Well, I decided that they could play a song for us as cheesy as that sounds. Without further ado, The Hornets." Nate stepped aside so that the band could set up. "Gunny, we have speakers outside on the lawn right?"

"Yes, sir, two on the lawn and two in the Rose Garden." Gunny nodded. The lead singer of The Hornets stepped up to the microphone.

"Before we start, folks, we like to give the President a big hand for giving us this chance." The members of the band clapped and Nate smiled at them. There was a drummer, one young man on a steel guitar one playing harmonica and another on the acoustic guitar. The band began to play and Nate gave a silent prayer that all his conniving might pay off. "Now this first song we're going to play is a Ryan Adams song from a couple of years back."

ON THE WHITE HOUSE LAWN…

Just as Sergei had thought up answer, the speakers began to play a little music for them.

_Two hearts fading, like a flower_

_And all this waiting, for the power_

_For some answer, to this fire_

_Sinking slowly, the water's higher_

_Desire_

"I want to know, because all I want is for you to be happy and I know you'll only be happy if you love him." Sergei answered, slightly breathless.

"Don't you trust that I would only marry a man that I love?" Anna asked as Sergei reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear which had fallen in front of her face.

"We all lash out when we're hurting." He answered cryptically as they moved further down the path.

_With no secrets. No obsession_

_This time I'm speeding with no direction_

_Without a reason, what is this fire?_

_Burning slowly, my one and only_

_Desire_

She took his hand as they move further down the path. "Are you happy for me?"

"Only if you're really happy." He answered.

"We've known each other for quite a while, can't you tell when I'm really happy?" She had guided them right into the White House Rose Garden.

He looked at her for a second, at how beautiful she looked in the moonlight in her dress with the way the light just touched upon her alabaster skin. "I can, that's what has me worried."

"What did you see? When you looked at me just now?" Anna asked stepping closer to him.

"A very beautiful woman." Sergei answered.

"I see a man who's not ready." She added.

"Not ready for what?" There wasn't much space between them now.

"The truth." She replied.

_You know me, you don't mind waiting_

_You can't show me, but God I'm praying_

_That you'll find me, that you'll see me_

_That you'll run and never tire_

_Desire_

"What is the truth?" He asked with the slightest of nods.

"That you might actually feel something for someone." Anna answered as she took a few steps back into the Rose Garden.

"Your Senator thought the same thing. He came right out and accused me and Johnny of it after Johnny took him for that ride in the Hornet. He said that we were pissed off because we were in love with you and he was the one dating you." Sergei explained, suddenly overcome with an injection of conscience based truth serum.

"He was angry, Johnny had shaken him up pretty good." Anna compensated for her absent fiancé.

"He was right." Sergei shook his head slightly from side to side.

"About what?" She chanced.

"About people being in love with you." Sergei blurted out. "There's someone who'll always love you."

"There's someone who'll always love you, too." Anna repeated with a slight shiver.

"Here, take my coat." Sergei peeled off his blue Dress uniform coat and handed it to her.

"Thanks." She nodded. "Maybe we should get back to the party."

"Yeah." The two of them walked back up the path toward the White House. "My brother and his wife met in that Rose Garden, you know?"

"Yeah, there's uh……there's something special about it." Anna nodded. There was a pregnant veil of silence around them something was imminent and they both knew it, they just didn't know what. They got back to the doors that led to the White House ballroom and Sergei went ahead to open the door. "Your jacket." She went to hand it to him just as he reached for it. Their eyes locked as the sparks shot between their fingers. They leaned toward each other. Anna's eyes closed, as did Sergei's. Their lips met in what was originally a tentative kiss but soon heated up into more as Anna's tongue nimbly danced over Sergei's. Once they both snapped to their senses, they pulled away.

"That was, uh…" They both started at the same time.

"That was goodbye, wasn't it?" Sergei asked and felt the most sickening of feelings in his chest when she nodded.

1726 ZULU, TWO DAYS LATER

THE WEST WING OF THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

"The First Lady was a trooper on the Daily Show last night." Gunny and Charlie were walking through the bullpen toward Charlie's office.

"I knew she was funny, I just didn't think that she was that funny." Charlie chuckled.

"Stacy's saddling up for her first press conference." Morley came around the corner to meet up with them.

"Think they'll ask her about Russia?" Charlie looked to Gunny.

"Don't think there's much doubt." Gunny answered as they all looked up at the TV.

In the Press briefing room, Stacy Anderson took the podium for the first press briefing of the new administration. "Good Morning, just a quick update on the President's schedule before we get started. The legislative agenda of the Senate is if great concern to this administration so the President is working closely with Senate Democrats to get the education plan off the ground. Also, the President was on the phone with UN Secretary General Manuel Serento for an hour this morning discussing the renewed crisis between Israel and Hezbollah that is developing along the UN green zone at the Israel-Lebanon border. Now, I'll take questions." A flurry of hands launched into the air. "Yes, Mark."

"Stacy, with the recent ascension of Nikolai Petrov to the Russian Presidency, is the President looking to strengthen ties with Russia?" The reporter asked.

"The President was on the phone with President Petrov last night and the two men agreed that as members of the G-8, they should have closer economic ties and a greater commitment to democracy." Stacy answered.

"So it doesn't seem a little odd that two fraternity brothers control the two biggest nuclear stockpiles in the world?" The reporter followed up.

"These are two mature men who have come a long way since their fraternity days, although I will say that you did miss the big sorority mixer they had planned for last weekend." Stacy's joke got laughs from the press gallery.

Back in the West Wing, Gunny and Charlie pumped their fists. "We're off to a flying start." Gunny commented as he headed toward the Oval.

SAME TIME

MCAS NEW RIVER

HANCOCK, NORTH CAROLINA

Anna Ross came bursting through the door into Sergei's house on base. She had to see him, they badly needed to talk. When she saw a man in the living room who wasn't Sergei she looked incredibly puzzled. The man was Sergei's CAG.

"Can you tell me where Lieutenant Rabb is, Colonel?" Anna asked, trying to catch her breath. The Colonel looked down at his watch.

"My guess is that he's onboard the _Bataan_ right about now, Captain." The Colonel answered.

"He left?" Anna felt like she'd taken a grenade blow to the chest.

"On the COD at 1800 yesterday." The Colonel answered. Four months, she would have four months before she could see him again. Four months. 120 days. Too long.


	15. Falling into Stride

"Boss, Admirals Turner and Rabb to see you." Gunny walked into the Oval. He knew that his boss had been agonizing over this decision for the better part of the last month. He's had a four hour discussion with the CNO the previous day about the organization of the OpNavs office and of JAG HQ. In the end, it all came down to already having a surplus of aviators or persons trained in Naval aviation at OpNavs.

"Let them in, Gunny." Nate nodded slowly. He hated this. Harm and Sturgis walked into the office and came to attention.

"Gentlemen, I think it's about time that we had a serious discussion about OpNavs." Nate got out from behind the desk. "First, I want the two of you to know that no decisions were arrived at lightly. Any decisions that the CNO, the SECNAV, SECDEF and myself came to were arrived at only after long hours of debate and discussion. First off, I want to thank Admiral Rabb for the job that he's done in the last year as the DCNO and I want to thank Admiral Turner for the job he's done in the last year as the JAG. The two of you made the interim period adjustment for the Navy incredibly easy, a service which cannot be underestimated for its value." Nate paused and sat back on the edge of his desk. "I want to inform the two of you of your new billets. Admiral Rabb, you are to receive a promotion from Rear Admiral Lower Half to Rear Admiral Upper Half and you will subsequently be stationed as the Navy's Judge Advocate General. You have the right to pick staff from any NLSO or JAG office in the fleet or the Marine Corps. Nate reached back and produced a box that carried in it the collar insignia of two silver stars. "Congratulations, Admiral."

"Thank you, sir." Harm wasn't sure how to feel. A promotion in the Navy was a promotion in the Navy but being as he'd sat, however temporarily in a three star's office, this almost felt like he was being demoted.

"Now, Admiral Turner. It is of the considered opinion of the Department of the Navy that having no Submariners in the OpNavs office is doing the Navy a disservice. Toward this end, it is the decision of the Department of the Navy on the nomination of this office, that you be promoted to the office of Deputy Chief of Naval Operations." Nate produced another box, this one containing a collar insignia of three silver stars. "Congratulations, Admiral."

"Thank you, sir." Sturgis on the other hand was smiling openly from ear to ear. Harm had to admit. The concerns that had been raised were legitimate. Everyone in the OpNavs office for the last year had some form of aviation training but there were no submariners. Sturgis was also not just a submariner, he was a submariner with experience as the interim JAG which meant that he had legal experience, which in an age where the international forum regularly questioned the legality of military actions, was always a plus.

"The boards reported out this afternoon, before you ask, so your promotions are legit. You'll both assume your new posts as of 0800 Monday morning. I would suggest that you return to your current offices and collect your personal effects. Thank you, gentlemen, that will be all." Nate concluded, the two men came to attention before exiting the office.

"It's a good JAG Office, Harm, you've got Bud and Manetti both of whom you've worked with before." Sturgis informed his friend.

"And OpNavs is basically a top down kind of thing. You deal directly with the CNO because most of the time the VCNO is out in the Pacific. You also deal directly with your staff, which is actually a pretty good staff. Bax will help you hit the ground running." Harm gave Sturgis a pat on the back.

A promotion was a promotion on paper. The thing about this one was that it felt like a demotion in spirit.

1340 ZULU

USS BATAAN

OFF THE COAST OF CYPRUS

Within three minutes of throwing his bag down in his quarters, Sergei Rabb was pulled away by CIA operatives onboard the _Bataan_ to a meeting. There was suspicions that the _Bataan_ was being used as a 'black site' for terrorist interrogations during the war on terror. Sergei volunteered for this detail only to find out that he was about two hours from being selected for it anyway. His experiences along with that of his brother with regard to ops with current CIA Director Clayton Webb had given him some credibility. His SuperCobra squad was an escort team working with IDF forces on the ground and Mossad/CIA intelligence.

Forward deployment to the Eastern Med always required some Israeli involvement for intelligence gathering so it was nothing out of the ordinary. On the deck or in quarters, you dealt with the CIA, on ground or In Country, you dealt with Mossad. As long as you kept your mouth shut and followed orders, it was the kind of duty that looked great on a personnel record. Sergei was bunking with a Harrier pilot. No unheard of, the chopper kids were all junior officers, none outranked Sergei so they ended up being bunked with Captains or Majors who flew the Harriers.

"Lieutenant Rabb, CAG wants you in comm." The ship's intercom informed Sergei who proceeded to bound off his bunk and head out of his room. He had his MARPAT uniform on as he traversed port from his stateroom heading for the comm. He reached the comm. and looked inside to see the CAG, skipper, chief CIA operative working with the sixth fleet and an unidentified dark haired woman.

"Lieutenant Rabb, this is Tamila Rosenbaum, she's going to be the Mossad operative working with the fleet from now on." The Skipper made the introductions. Sergei nodded at her. Tamila Rosenbaum was an attractive olive skinned, dark haired woman. Granted Mossad agents weren't dressed to entice men but Tamila seemed to come about it in a very unimposing way.

"Why was I summoned, Skipper?" Sergei asked.

"Agent Rosenbaum." The Skipper nodded to the Mossad agent.

"For the last few weeks, Marines from the 24th Marine Expeditionary Unit have been retrieving American citizens from Northern Israel while helping to provide Israel with intelligence on key Hezbollah sites in Southern Lebanon. Today, an American military advisor, A Marine Major, was kidnapped by Hezbollah in Northern Israel, just north of Nahariya. He was wearing an IDF uniform and looked just like an IDF Major would. The thing of it is, they're hoping to exchange him for Palestinian prisoners being held in Israel, but Prime Minister Nahon is not going to trade a Palestinian terrorist for an American even if he is a military advisor." Tamila explained as she paced around the room.

"What Washington has given us clearance to do, is send in the strike team tonight with SuperCobra escorts. If they light up the SAMs, even as a threat, the President's orders are to blow them into the ground." The Skipper was plainspoken. "Agent Rosenbaum is going to backseat for you, she's an experience Apache pilot with Israeli Air Defence Command. It's her mission to go over everything with you. You're going to lead the escort."

"Aye, aye, skipper." Sergei was still at attention. "Should I tell Staff Sergeant Mallory that he won't be my GIB on this one?"

"Yes, Dismissed, Lieutenant." Skipper nodded at Sergei who turned and headed through the bulkhead. He got about halfway down the corridor when he realized that he was being followed. Sergei turned to find Agent Rosenbaum behind him.

"Can I help you, Agent Rosenbaum?" Sergei turned to face her.

"I just like to get to know a pilot before I fly with them, Lieutenant." Agent Rosenbaum smiled at Sergei. "Call me Tamila."

"Sergei." Sergei shook her hand.

"Sergei?" Tamila raised her eyebrow and said something in Russian and Sergei responded with shock.

"You speak Russian?" Sergei's face was plastered with a notable surprise.

"My grandparents were Ashkenazi Jews. My dad's side was from Eastern Poland and my mother's side was from Western Russia." Tamila smiled and winked at Sergei before moving past him. Sergei had to stop and think for a second. He wondered if all women were able to make Desert Camouflage look sexy?

1330 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

Harm had spent last weekend cutting orders for his roster of JAG lawyers and having them sent out express over the wires. He had kept Bud and Manetti because he knew that they were both competent lawyers and investigators. He had ordered in two Marines, one who had served as the JAG on the _Kearsarge_ and the other who had served as the XO at the Legal Services Office at Camp Smedley Butler in Okinawa. Harm had also selected JAG XO from NAS Wilson in Cyprus and Lieutenant Jason Tiner to serve as his core legal staff.

Bud was his Chief of Staff, a position that Harm was happy to see him fill. Chief of Staff at JAG Headquarters was a good billet for promotion. Commander Roberts was already developed as a Naval officer far beyond where he had been when Harm first stepped on to the deck of the _Seahawk_ thirteen years ago.

"Sir, Lieutenant Colonel O'Neill and Commander Roberts to see you." The yeoman paged Harm who was sitting behind his desk.

"Send them in." Harm released the button and continued to look down. The door opened and the two officers came in and came to attention in front of Harm's desk. "Colonel Maggie O'Neill, your record reads like something out of JAG's greatest hits. You served as battle group JAG for the Eisenhower Battle Group, you were the first Staff Judge Advocate at NAS Wilson and you served as the JAG attaché to the military advisement team in Israel. Just one question, Colonel, have you ever actually conducted a criminal investigation?" Harm dropped his pen on the legal pad.

"I investigated theft from the Eisenhower dispersing office alongside NCIS and I was the base Judge Advocate who investigated the first assault clash between an American serviceman and a Cypriote." O'Neill answered.

"But never a murder investigation?" Harm questioned.

"One, sir, at the joint Israeli-American tribunal during the Corporal Hawkins affair a couple of years ago." Colonel O'Neill stood tough on her ground.

"Well, Colonel, on an international law level with regard to Rules of Engagement, I would say that you're our expert. However, that is merely one function of this office. Until further notice, and because I believe you need seasoning, you'll be partnered with Commander Roberts on all his investigations." Harm looked up at the Marine who seemed rather seriously offended. "Problems, Colonel?"

"No, sir!" O'Neill stiffened up.

"Good." Harm's response sounded remarkably Chegwidden-like. Harm handed the folder to Bud. "This is your first case. You're going to Little Creek." Bud took the folder and skimmed through the accident report. He handed it to his new partner. "Dismissed." Colonel O'Neill headed out the door with Bud trailing behind her. "Bud! A moment of your time."

Bud stopped and turned back toward the desk. "Yes, Admiral."

"Bud, I could tell you had some objections to my management." Harm raised his eyes at his friend with tilting his head up.

"No, sir, well that is yes, sir, but not severe objections. It's just that, permission to speak freely, sir?" Bud finally arrived at his point of protocol.

"Speak your mind, Bud." Harm chuckled at his subordinate's navigation of etiquette.

"Well, sir, it's just that you seemed to be rather critical of Colonel O'Neill and handing her a rape case as her first case and your mannerisms, sir, you seem to be doing something of along the lines of your best impression of Admiral Chegwidden, sir." Bud was finally able to get to the point.

"Bud, in the thirteen years that you've known me, have I ever done something without a valid point behind it?" Harm got up out of his chair. Bud shook his head but paid close attention to his CO. "Bud, I believe that Colonel O'Neill has the potential to be an extraordinary lawyer. Her record alone speaks for the mind behind her legal abilities. She's just done plenty of law-making without a lot of law practicing, Bud. I figured that I can trust you to balance out her record." Harm gave his friend a pat on the shoulder.

"Thank you, sir." Bud nodded. "I won't let you down."

"I know that, Bud." Harm headed back to his desk chair. "You've got to get down to Little Creek, Commander, I suggest you get moving."

"Aye, aye, sir." Bud turned and headed toward the door.

"And send in Manetti on your way back to your office, would you?" Harm picked up his pen and returned to his paperwork. He never realized how much work AJ Chegwidden really did in the last fiscal quarter of every year. The Base Realignment and Closure committee was beginning their meetings this week and the Pentagon had tasked him with adding a JAG representative to the board.

"Commander Manetti to see you, sir." Harm's yeoman told him.

"Send her in, Petty officer." Harm had to prepare to meet another staffer. Tracy Manetti came in and came to attention in front of her CO's desk much the way that her colleagues had only minutes before. "Good Morning, Commander Manetti."

"It's nice to see you again, Admiral." Tracy answered in her familiar friendly southern drawl.

"Commander, I need to send someone to the BRAC committee who can assess the necessity of the current legal facilities under Navy JAG jurisdiction. Your experience with different NLSO commands in the Atlantic and Pacific as well as your connections on the hill make you ideal for this committee so, until the recommendations of the committee are out, you're TAD to Capitol Hill." Harm needed to get to one more item before going through the budget reports.

"Thank you, sir." Tracy nodded. "Will that be all, sir?"

"Yes, thank you, Commander." Harm smiled and Manetti left his office. It was no great joy being the JAG.

1612 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE SITUATION ROOM

WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

"Alright, so what exactly, is our situation in this new Arab-Israeli conflict, General?" Nate leaned back in the chair.

"Well, sir, we've had military advisors in Israel since the Carter administration. They always go native and they always look identical to a member of the national military of which they are advising. In this case, it was that protocol which got our Marine abducted. We're sending in Strike Force Bravo off of the _USS Bataan,_ they've got good intelligence gathered from Mossad and CIA

"And you relayed my orders to them?" Nate asked, looking down the table at the CNO.

"Verbatim, sir." Admiral Barris responded, leaning over the table.

"Mr. President, we need to discuss options for how we proceed if we're discovered retrieving Major Cohen from Lebanon." Secretary of Defence AJ Chegwidden took over from the CNO. "First of all, there are legal ramifications. We _are_ talking about conducting black ops on foreign soil, which means that they could consider this an act of war."

"No offence, AJ, but we could ask the Lebanese government to talk to Hezbollah about releasing him, however, we're trying to keep this out of the press, a stipulation I can assure you that Hezbollah would not agree to." Clayton Webb intervened. "Not to mention the reluctance the Lebanese government has with disciplining Hezbollah in any way. More then seventy percent of the country, that's all the Muslim population of Lebanon, sees Nasrallah as a hero and they see us as the Great Satan. They're not going to let him go without a show of force."

"I know that, Webb, I was just saying that…" AJ was about to get into it with the CIA director but the President intervened.

"Alright, I know the arguments, I want to know a way to retrieve the Marine and deal with any public fallout if we get caught." The President turned to face his Secretary of Defence. "Now, please continue, AJ."

"Well, there's the simplest way of going about things. We get caught, we apologize to the Lebanese for violating their sovereignty." AJ suggested.

"Unacceptable, I'm not going to say that I'm sorry because I retrieved a Marine that was ceased by a terrorist organization. I'd sooner lift Ford's Executive Order banning assassinations and just have the CIA shoot Nasrallah." Nate sighed.

"We can go that route, too." Webb suggested. "It just might create more of a PR nightmare."

"Alright, we're not apologizing. Truman said it's better to beg forgiveness then ask permission, we only do one of those if we're wrong. Before we go on from here, I want to be sure that we're all on the same page. No one thinks we're in the wrong here?" Nate looked around the table at the members of the US National Security Council and he didn't see one dissenting opinion. "Alright, our priority is getting that Marine back. I'll deal with the reaction to getting caught only if we actually get caught. As it is, the strike is a go for 0230 Zulu Tim, correct?"

"Yes, sir." Admiral Barris nodded at the President.

"Good. I want an update the second we know something, I don't care what the time is." Nate closed his folder. "That'll be all gentlemen." Nate got up from his chair.

"Thank you, Mr. President." The gathering returned as Nate left the room, Gunny fast on his heels.

"Sir, you know that the War Powers Act requires you to notify the Gang of Eight of your intent when dealing with a crisis that could involve the United States in an international conflict." Gunny and the President walked toward the Roosevelt Room.

"Yes, Gunny, I know, I had very fruitful conversations with the Gang of Eight shortly after waking up this morning. They're abreast of the situation, don't worry." The two men had to meet up with the rest of the chief advisors of the executive office to schedule the first state visit. Charlie, Morley and Stacy all got out of their chairs as Nate entered the room. "Alright what kind of offers, have we got, I want the best five."

"The Prime Minister of Canada called this morning. Traditionally they are our closest ally when it comes to things like…well, actually relations between Washington and Ottawa had frosted over in the last decade. Traditionally, they're allies but in recent years, we've had conflicts over economy, trade and US global military presence. But Prime Minister Gareau is a Tory and they tend to be more accepting of certain elements of American policy while by no means being pushovers." Morley led off the suggestions.

"So, you're saying that a State visit might be just what we need to solidify relations?" Gunny jumped in.

"Couldn't hurt." Morley answered.

"Okay, what next?" Nate looked at Charlie.

"Offer came in from Israel, they want to…" Charlie was cut off by Nate.

"This is not the time to visit Israel. Next." Nate looked to Stacy.

"We have an offer from the government of Turkey. The Turkish President would like to arrange a state visit to come here to Washington." She tapped her pencil on the yellow legal pad.

"Leader from a Muslim country sends the right kind of message and it allows us to put human rights as well as the growing influence of their Shariah court on the table." Charlie interjected.

"Also leads to a round of talks that will do nothing because Turkey's an ally and they know that we need Allies in the region and don't have the teeth to seriously press them on human rights because we need a Muslim ally that doesn't have us by the crude oil shorthairs. I agree that Turkey warrants a state visit just not the first one." Nate looked to Gunny. "What have you got?"

"India. Our relations with New Delhi have gotten better since the end of the cold war. They're an important ally in the War on Terror and at the UN. The Indian Navy is also key to keeping a leash on Chinese Naval aspirations in eastern Asia." Gunny looked up at his boss.

"Good case for a state visit." Nate smirked. "Alright, put them on the short list. What's our last option?"

"There's the one that the press is expecting. They think you're going to go to Moscow. They say that two fraternity brothers leading two of the world's most powerful nations should strengthen friendly ties and bridge the ideological gap that create their past rivalry." Charlie took off his glasses and wiped the lens.

"You read the Times this morning, didn't you?" Nate looked down at his Deputy Chief of Staff.

"I did, yeah." Charlie nodded.

"Alright, so it's Moscow or New Delhi?" Nate had a hand on his chin. "My gut's telling me Moscow but my head says New Delhi."

"Flip a coin?" Gunny suggested.

"Could draw straws." Morley added.

"I always go with my head. Get the Indian Prime Minister on the phone, tell him that the President of the United States would love to drop by for a three day summit some time next month." Nate chuckled. "Has the President of the United States ever made his first state visit, a trip to India before?"

"No, this is definitely a first." Charlie answered for the group.

"Kind of sad, don't you think? Being as India is the most quickly modernizing society in East Asia. They're a successful democracy, with an emerging economy, a booming technology sector and provinces within the state, such as Kerala, have found a way to successfully curtail population growth without large scale government intervention." Nate took a breather. "When it comes to the UN, they are, along with perhaps only a handful of other nations, one of the most fiercely committed countries to international diplomacy, intervention and peacekeeping."

"Boss, you don't have to convince us, the GOP might require a bit of salesmanship, but we're convinced." Gunny jumped in.

"Alright, what's next on the dock?" Nate finally took a seat at the table.

"The Senate Education Reform bill, sir." Charlie answered.

"Okay, Charlie, your office took the ball on that one. Tell me what we're looking at up on the hill." Nate looked down the table at his Deputy Chief of Staff.

"Well, sir, the current Democratic majority in the Senate works in our favour on this one since most of the Democratic caucus was elected or re-elected because they attached themselves to the national campaign on this issue." Charlie looked around the table at the rest of senior staff.

"The problem we're running into on this one, sir, is that we require the participation of state governments. Now, there are twenty nine states with Democratic governors, one call from the White House should probably convince them. There are thirteen additional states with Democratic representation in the Senate, so that leaves us with eight states who may show some hostility to the bill." Morley added.

"Alright, Morley, I want you to take point for those eight states. Charlie, your office can take point on the other forty-two. Gunny, talk to the Vice President, I want you and Wes to head up to the hill and round up any Republican votes you can to make the bill bipartisan. We've got 57 Democratic votes and that's enough to pass the bill but I'd prefer to make this a uniting issue rather then a divisive one." Nate zipped up his folder and got up from the table.

"What about me, boss?" Stacy asked as she along with the rest of senior staff got up from the table.

"Press office has a trip to India to get ready for." Nate answered before leaving the room.

1945 ZULU

USS BATAAN

OFF THE COAST OF NORTHERN ISRAEL

The teams were readying on the flight deck. The full squad of four SuperCobras were on the deck along with a CH-53E Super Stallion helicopter to carry the extraction team. "This is Snake Charmer1, calling to check comm. Recognize." Sergei got the chopper ready for take off.

"Snake Charmer2." One of the other Cobra pilots called in.

"Snake Charmer3." Another one identified.

"Snake Charmer4." The last one called in.

"_Bataan_ tower, this is Snake Charmer1. Pre-flight checklist complete, all guardians recognized. We are a go for delivery." Sergei called into the CAG in the tower.

"All clear, Snake Charmer1, bring that Marine home. Good Luck." The CAG authorized. Two of the SuperCobras were the first off the deck followed by the Super Stallion. The last two SuperCobras came off the deck and the team was in transit over the Med.

"When was the last time you were in the backseat, Tamila?" Sergei asked, always keeping his eyes focused forward.

"In a helicopter or with a guy, Lieutenant?" Tamila answered in her usual coy way.

"We've got a little bit of time before we approach the target, why not tell me about both." Sergei chuckled.

"That would be, how your military says, red light, Lieutenant." Tamila answered with a slight chuckle of her own.

"You were the one who started it, Tamila." Sergei answered as he saw the desert coming up at the edge of his vision and approaching fast. The Bataan was only thirteen miles out from the Israeli coast so the route was relatively short and the camp where Major Cohen was being held was barely over the border inside Lebanon. The second, they were over the coast, Sergei put in the call. "Snake Charmer1 calling _Bataan_ tower, feet dry."

"Roger that, Snake Charmer1." The CAG affirmed. "You are approximately seven miles from target."

"Understood CAG." Sergei answered and turned the caravan northward toward Lebanon.

"This ride is a little rougher than an Apache." Tamila commented. "We're now in Lebanese airspace." She looked out the window to her side.

"How can you tell?" Sergei asked. "Intel says we're half a mile from Lebanon."

"I'm an Israeli chopper pilot, you really want to doubt me on this one?" She shot at him caustically.

"Good point." Sergei nodded. "Alright, boys we're BEL and approaching the target. _Beast _and _Dwarf_, you cover the Stallion, _Shark _and I will run cover."

"Roger that, _Ivan_." Beast called in. The two attack choppers followed the transport toward the ground. Sergei and his wingman broke off and combed the surrounding area for SAM installations. "Santa is down the chimney." Beast called in.

"What is he talking about?" Tamila questioned.

"He just said that the team has infiltrated the camp." Sergei told her. He swung the tail of the chopper around and headed back toward the camp.

"Sergei, does that look like a SAM site to you?" She asked. "At ten o'clock, about forty degrees." Sergei looked to his left and saw a vehicle with an attachment to the back.

"_Shark_, this is _Ivan_, suspected SAM site at my ten o'clock. Going in for a closer look." Sergei turned the nose to the left and hit a downward slope.

"Watch your six, _Ivan_." Shark warned. Sergei's dive allowed him a closer look. "It's a SAM site!"

"It's being armed!" Tamila exclaimed. "Missile inbound! Roll!"

"How? It's a helicopter." Sergei retorted and he felt her take the stick from him. He felt the chopper roll to one side and dive toward the earth. He took grip of the stick and pulled them out of the dive. The chopper drew parallel to the ground and came up behind the SAM site. Sergei turned the tail and the rotor kicked up a sandstorm. "Arming missiles." He patched through. He armed two of his anti-tank missiles and opened up his radio channel. "Skipper, this is Snake Charmer1. Engaging hostile Surface to Air Missile battery. Permission to go weapons free?"

"You have your orders, Snake Charmer1." The Skipper voice came over the comm.

"Aye, aye, skipper." Sergei turned off the radio and activated the guidance system on his missiles. "Firing one." He pressed the button and launched a missile at the SAM battery igniting an overwhelming crater of fire. "Let's go boys and girls before the cavalry gets here." Sergei brought the chopper over to the LZ. "How many minutes to zero?"

"We're a go, Lieutenant; let's get them out of here." The Second Lieutenant piloting the CH-53E lifted the bird off the ground. The attack helicopters gathered around the transport and prepared to head out to sea and rendezvous with the _Bataan_.

0221 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

The sun had set over Virginia and Harm was still going over budget reports for the last fiscal quarter. He never thought he'd ever thank God for Sturgis Turner but he had to right now. Sturgis had kept the budget up to date for every other quarter over the last fiscal year which had made Harm's job easier. He heard his door close and he looked up to see his wife sauntering toward his desk. "I've come to pry you away from work."

"I surrender." He threw his arms up into the air.

"Have I ever told you how sexy you look behind that desk?" She wet her lips with her tongue as she walked around the side of the desk.

"No, I don't believe you have, Mrs. Rabb." Harm turned his chair to face her.

"Well," she sat down in his lap, "you look _very_ sexy behind that desk, Admiral Rabb." She whispered in his ear in a husky tone. "You would also look _very_ sexy tangled in the cream white of our silk bed sheets at home. But, you won't get that opportunity tonight, if you don't let me take you home."

"Mrs. Rabb, you're trying to seduce me." Harm answered as Mac seductively lifted her red stiletto heel from the floor and placed it on the desk, giving her. "Aren't you?"

"Oh yeah, baby." She leaned in and kissed him soundly on the lips. "Now, are you going to come willingly or do I have to drag out of here by your," she looked down at the seam of his pants, "handle?"

"I surrender to the awesome power of the Marine Corps. Just don't hurt me." He climbed out of the chair and grabbed his briefcase.

"Just don't forget it, flyboy." She grabbed him by the tie and dragged him out of the office.

2347 ZULU

USS BATAAN

OFF THE COAST OF NORTHERN ISRAEL

The choppers landed on the flight deck of the Bataan and everyone climbed out. Their mission had been a resounding success. They had been a little late on the rescue but Major Cohen was still alive. He had been tortured to within an inch of his life but he was still alive. Sergei climbed out of his cockpit sweating like a hog from his hair all the way down his back. "That was some pretty fancy flying, Tamila." Sergei turned to the Mossad agent who had been sitting backseat for him.

"You weren't bad yourself, bottlehead." She smiled at him.

"It's jarhead, Tamila." Sergei assured her as the two of them walked over to the island. "I have to hit the rain room."

"I agree." She made a play a pinching her nose and dispersing the air in front of her face. "I should probably have a shower myself."

"Rabb! Get your six down here." The CAG called.

"Call me if you need someone to wash your back." Sergei raised his eyebrows suggestively as he headed down the corridor toward the CAG.

"Green light, Lieutenant." Tamila muttered to herself once Sergei was out of earshot, as she headed down the corridor toward her room. Down the corridor, Sergei met up with the CAG.

"Not a bad first lead for you, Rabb. Considering that you almost got yourself killed." The CAG adjusted the brim on his _USS Bataan_ cap.

"We were in close to a SAM battery in a chopper, CAG; there wasn't much I could do." Sergei answered trying to explain what had happened.

"Agent Rosenbaum seemed to disagree with that. She saved your six, Lieutenant." The CAG opened the door to his stateroom and leaned against the hatch. "Since Agent Rosenbaum is going to be assigned to us for the duration of our float in the Med, I've decided to permanently assign her to your backseat. There's also no bunk space in female country so…"

"Oh, CAG, don't say it." Sergei pleaded.

"Captain Arnold is moving out to be bunked with Major Cohen once the major is up to occupying a room that isn't in intensive care. Agent Rosenbaum is your new Bunkie." The CAG had to chuckle as he gave the younger man a pat on the shoulder. "Now go take a shower, Rabb; you smell like rattlesnake piss."

"Yes, sir." Sergei chuckled as he headed down the hallway in a jog.


	16. Regrets

Nate and Gunny stood out on the Truman Balcony puffing on cigars. "You know, Gunny, there are nights when I wish I could lift the embargo on Cuba just to not have to smoke Dominican cigars any more." The two men shared a laugh. "My wife's determined to set you up on a date, Gunny."

"Let her try, sir, I don't think work permits a social life." Gunny chortled. "The First Lady sure is something though, sir. I think a lot of men wish that they could find a woman like her."

"Yeah, I know, I'm a lucky man." Nate looked out over Washington. "You know, Gunny, having a social life isn't a sin."

"I know, sir, it would just make all this seem like a bad soap opera. You know, a White House plagued by matchmaking." Gunny joined his boss in looking over the city. "We've got that state visit to India next week, boss."

"I know, Gunny, you've been busting your ass helping the Press office get that one ready, thanks." Nate popped the top on a bottle of eighteen year-old scotch. "That was some good work that you and the Vice President did on the Education Reform bill. Just a pity that we won't see the results of it for a few years yet."

"Yeah, but as Charlie pointed out, boss, the first results should come out part way through your re-election campaign." Gunny offered a genuine smile. "Sir, why did you hire me for this job? I wasn't politically qualified, you know that. I may have been a good office manager but you could have just put me in Charlie's job."

"Gunny, you have a presence that makes you seem authoritative. It allows me to project the power of the presidency without having to necessarily attend every boring legislative meeting or personally speak with key members of congress before a big vote. I think Charlie is a superior political strategist, but he doesn't have the presence that you do. Charlie couldn't convince the Gang of Eight that covertly engaging terrorists in Lebanon is a good thing. But you could. You don't give yourself enough credit, my friend." The two men clinked their snifters of scotch together.

"Any regrets, sir?" Gunny asked, turning his head toward Nate.

"That's a loaded question, Gunny. I have a lot of things in my life that I wish I had done differently, but I don't know that I necessarily regret them. I wish I had made the shot in Kuwait City that would have let my brother walk and hence have the will to live out his life. But I didn't. I wish that I had been faster walking up his driveway the day that he committed suicide. But I wasn't. In either case, Gunny, I can't really regret it because I had no control over the circumstance. I had no way of knowing which man was going to shoot my brother, I also know that if Preston was intent on killing himself he would have done so eventually. No, Gunny, the only things we can regret are those things over which we have total control. And in that category, there is one thing I regret." Nate took a drink. "I held back my wife's career at the State Department. Not maliciously or with any evil intent. It's just that every time I was promoted, I would meet with the Secretary of State, they would tell me that I could have any personnel on my staff that I wanted and her name was always the first out of my mouth. She should have been leading a team of her own, but I couldn't let her go."

"How long did the two of you work together?" Gunny asked as he refilled his glass.

"Nine years." Nate answered and Gunny almost choked on his scotch.

"Really?" Gunny was gasping for air.

"Keep in mind I was married for the first year and going through a nasty divorce for a year and a half after that." Nate explained. "Add to which, the fact that after that we both traversed assorted failed relationships. Through it all, she was the one person I knew that if I had in my life, I would be okay. In my own deranged method of discovery I've found that to be one of the best reasons to marry someone. If you ever find that one person that you can't live without, that one woman who absolutely captivates you just by simply tucking your kids in at night. I don't know, maybe that's just my own sentimentality. I guess to answer your question, Gunny, I guess I don't have any regrets."

"Sir?" Gunny chanced.

"Yeah, Gunny." Nate finished his scotch.

"Tell the First Lady, that if she really wants to, she can set up that date." Gunny can't believe he'd just done that, but maybe the President's sentimentality was contagious.

"Will do, Gunny." Nate chuckled as the two men headed in off the balcony.

1530 ZULU

USS BATAAN

OFF THE COAST OF EASTERN CYPRUS

"Are you reading those Tom Clancy books again?" Tamila questioned as she lay on the bottom bunk.

"It's very nice of my sister in law to send them to me." Sergei answered with a bit of a huff. "What are you reading? The new cleaning manual for the new IDF service rifle."

"I'm reading Mordecai Richler, actually." Tamila answered in a slightly self-righteous tone. She put her book down and swung her legs over the side of her rack. "We don't know too much about each other."

"That's true." Sergei turned another page. "I know that you're a great chopper pilot, a Mossad agent and you look really good in a tank top when you aren't wearing a bra." She raised an eyebrow at him and smacked him across the shoulder playfully. "I also know that you read faster then I do, snore when you sleep, you love Bob Dylan and your last boyfriend was a self-obsessed accountant."

"Okay, what I should have said was that I don't know much about you." She got off the bunk and stood up, leaning forward against the edge of his bunk. "How do you know so much about me anyway?"

"Let's just say you're your own favourite topic of conversation." Sergei flipped another page in his book.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"We end up talking about you a lot. Not that I mind, I fly with you, it's good to know something about the person who has your life in their hands." Sergei closed his bunk and swung his legs over the side of his bunk. "So what did you want to know about me?"

"What were you doing before you came out here? Someone said that you didn't start this cruise with the _Bataan_, when you joined them they were about six weeks out." Tamila moved to the side as Sergei hopped down off the bunk.

"I had a few things to clear up back home first." Sergei answered cryptically as he moved passed her toward the hatch.

"Things like what?" She asked as the two of them traversed the knee-knockers on their way down the corridor.

"A personal issue, a friend of mine is getting married." Sergei answered as he started to head for the gym. "What are the odds that we would be caught in a rainstorm in this part of the world anyway?"

"Nice diversion of the subject." She smirked. "You stayed behind to help this person with their wedding plans?"

"Actually I wanted to talk her out of marrying the guy." Sergei blurted out unexpectedly.

"_Her?_ Now, we're getting somewhere." Tamila took him by the arm and spun him so that he was facing her. "Are you in love with her?"

"No." Sergei answered quickly.

"Then why stop her from marrying this other man?" Tamila leaned back against the bulkhead.

"Because the man is not right for her. He's sleaze. I just don't want to see her make a mistake." Sergei explained, slightly fumbling through it.

"Some people have to make mistakes, Sergei. It's the only way that they learn." Tamila's tone softened as her fingers lightly grazed Sergei's arm in a gesture of support.

"You sound very much like my sister in law sometimes." Sergei chuckled nervously. "It's a compliment, trust me, she's a Marine and a very wise woman."

"She also sends you Tom Clancy books." Tamila added, her smile beaming from between her glimmering light pink lips.

"Well, my brother would, but he's very busy with his job." Sergei answered as the two of them started walking again.

"What does your brother do?" Tamila was trying to keep pace with him, his legs were just a little longer then hers.

"He's the Judge Advocate General for the Navy and Marine Corps." Sergei answered with a slight bit of smugness.

"And yet you are a helicopter pilot and not a lawyer? Most interesting." She tossed him a more intriguing smile.

"Well, my brother would say that he's a Tomcat pilot who happens to be a lawyer." Sergei answered as the two of them stepped into the gym. "I'm going to work with the heavy bag."

"You're going to eventually tell me more about yourself, Sergei." She winked at him as she walked past.

"What makes you so sure?" Sergei gazed around the bag and watched as her six swayed in the tight black pair of bicycle shorts.

"I'm Mossad, everyone talks eventually." She smiled and winked at him again.

1355 ZULU

JAG HEADQUARTERS

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

The officers came to attention as Harm entered the room. Harm took his seat, much as he had seen Admiral Chegwidden do multiple times before. "Okay, folks, we have a bit of a docket this week, does anyone have any cases left over from last week that may prevent them from carrying too much of a workload?" Harm looked around and saw no one put their hand up. "Alright, we have Commander Manetti back in the office fresh off her term as a member of the BRAC commission. Commander, you'll be taking over the prosecution on the Kraft and George cases, Commander Roberts you'll handle the defence on both cases. Colonel O'Neill, you have the prosecution on Barnes and Malone. Major Richter you can take the defence, Tiner you'll second chair." Harm had finished administering the cases for the time being. "On a separate note, every few years, the Judge Advocate's office takes part in an international exchange with one of our allies. For a period of six to eight months, a member of a foreign JAG office comes to work here at Headquarters. Past rounds have had German, Canadian and," Harm winced just in memory, "Australian Navy personnel assigned to this office. Well, our turn has come again and as of noon today, we will be welcoming Royal Navy Commander Simon Mill. The British are close allies; I trust that none of you will cause an international incident."

"Aye, aye, sir." Everyone seemed to answer simultaneously.

"Good. You're all dismissed." The officers got up from the table And Harm sat there looking over the personnel records of the newest transferee. Bud walked alongside Colonel O'Neill through the bullpen.

"Is he always this gruff about everything?" O'Neill looked over at Bud.

"He had a bad experience with the last exchange officer we had through here." Bud answered in a chuckle. "Australian Navy Lieutenant Commander, a real pain in the butt, now that I look back on it."

"So, he doesn't like working with exchange personnel?" O'Neill raised a speculative eyebrow.

"Well, the last time that he had any experience with a Royal Navy commander, was the time that an assassin was posing as one and shot his partner in the back of the head." Bud attempted to explain. "I've known the Admiral for thirteen years; he has a good reason for pretty much everything he does……most of the time."

"And the rest of the time?" O'Neill questioned as they stopped in front of her office.

"He tends to be right anyway." Bud answered as he held the manila folder under his left arm and gave it a smack. "See you in court, counsellor."

"Later, Bud." Colonel O'Neill headed into her office.

1935 ZULU

THE OVAL OFFICE

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

Senior staff had been called in for the final briefing before the India trip. Staffing decisions had already been made for who was going on the trip. Charlie and Morley would be accompanying the President to India. Gunny and Stacy would be remaining at home to work with the Vice President's office and assure that key legislative issues were dealt with. The Press office had largely taken the lead on this trip but they would have to deal with issues at home.

"Alright, sir, this is our first state trip, so no one is expecting a major breakthrough, we're just looking to strengthen ties with an important economic and foreign policy player." Secretary of State Andrea Wallace led off the meeting.

"I know that, Andrea. I also know that India's role in the world is crucial geographically because it's the bridge between China and the Islamic world, both of which are civilizations that we don't particularly enjoy dealing with on the international level so it makes sense for us to have at least one ally in that region." Nate hunched over in the chair. "What kind of issues have we worked out for discussion with the Indian Prime Minister?"

"It's a simple agenda for a three day summit, boss. First day is economic issues, trade most specifically. The second day was set aside for discussions on regional security and the last day is a couple of photo ops before we get back on Air Force One and come home." Charlie took over. Gunny burst through the door, having gotten passed the executive secretary.

"Boss, there's something very urgent that requires your attention." Gunny tripped over his tongue

"Hold on there, Marine, is someone dead?" Nate stood straight up and walked over to his Chief of Staff.

"No, sir, but this is still really urgent." Gunny assured his boss. "We've got people waiting in the Roosevelt Room who really need to see you."

"Alright, Gunny, let's go." Nate nodded at hi friend. He turned back to face the other members of staff in the room. "Okay, folks, I expect each of you to fax me a one page briefing of what we didn't cover today but you think I need to know." Nate followed Gunny from the Oval Office toward the Roosevelt Room. "What is this all about, Gunny?"

"Sir, when your brother was in that wheelchair for three years did he have a nurse that took care of him at home?" Gunny asked as the two men made a rapid pace toward the Roosevelt Room.

"Yes, Gunny, she was a rather nice young woman named Maria Kosto-something or other." Nate shook his head trying to comprehend the situation.

"Maria Kostopolous, sir." Gunny stated.

"Yeah, how did you know that, Gunny?" Nate looked over at his Chief of Staff, the two men stopped in the hallway.

"Because there's a Miss Helene Kostopolous in the Roosevelt Room with a lawyer right now, sir, she's thirteen, her mother just died and she's claiming that your brother was the father." Gunny informed his boss.

"Alright, that still begs the question, why is she here?" Nate hunched over his six foot three form and placed his hands on his hips.

"Sir, her lawyer says that in her mother's will, you and the First Lady are listed as her guardians in the event of her mother's demise. You and your siblings are her closest living relatives." Gunny was cracking his knuckles, he was slightly nervous.

"Did you call NCIS and tell them to check this thing out?" Nate ran a hand through his hair.

"Talked to Director Shepherd personally, she said that she would have her forensic tech check everything out and she was having a few of her investigators go over all the evidence. The Secret Service is also conducting a complete Yankee White background check." Gunny nodded at his boss.

"So, you've got NCIS _and_ Secret Service working on this?" Nate smiled. "See, Gunny, that's why I chose you as Chief of Staff."

"There's more, sir, they had to call your mom up in Richmond. They needed anything that she had of your brother's that would allow them to test DNA." Gunny hung his head. He knew that after thirteen years, that phone call likely had to be tough on Mrs. Ross.

"Well, they will have hit the jackpot. Mom saved everything. The hair from our first haircuts, our baby teeth, I think she even has a Polaroid and the Kleenex she used to clean Preston up after he got a bloody nose from taking a baseball to the nose. Alright, Gunny, how long did the lab at NCIS say it would take before they got the DNA results conclusively?"

"Couple days, sir." Gunny answered. "This is just a sit down, to familiarize what we're dealing with."

"Alright." The two men walked into the room and Secret Service took to the door behind them.

"Mr. President, it's a pleasure to meet you." The lawyer stood up and shook Nate's hand. "This is my client, Helene Kostopolous. Her mother died earlier in the month and from what we know, or at least from what her mother told her, her father was Major Preston Ross. This of course remains to be seen, according to the DNA tests to be conducted later."

"You'll have to excuse me, Mr.?" Nate was fishing for a last name.

"Mercer." The lawyer answered.

"Mr. Mercer, right, my brother was paralyzed in the time that he knew Miss. Kostopolous' mother. Wouldn't the paralysis from which he was suffering make it incredibly difficult for him to procreate?" Nate speculated.

"Incredibly difficult but not completely impossible, there are some paraplegics who retain some control over their reproductive system, if the paralysis was caused by an accident, such was the case for Major Ross. In other circumstances, the paraplegic may not retain control of their system but the physiological response could be completely involuntary." Mr. Mercer explained. "And there's always the miracles can happen philosophy."

"Of course." Nate nodded and wet his lips. He turned and looked at the young woman who was supposedly his niece. "Don't you hate it when adults talk about you like you're not even in the room?"

"Not really, I've gotten used to it over the last couple of weeks." Helene answered. "So, you were my dad's brother, huh? Were you like the smart one in the family?"

"Well, if my brother is your father then, yes, I'm your uncle. As for being the smart one in the family, you would have to ask my mother or one of my sisters about that one." Nate smiled wisely. "Where were you living before your mother passed?"

"She went back home to Greece when I was six, I learned how to speak Greek and English." Helene smiled at the man that she was sure was her uncle. Her mother hadn't spoke of her father often but her father's name was often mention in conjuncture with the two people who most regularly came to visit him, the people her mother had called 'Mr. Nate' and 'Miss Nicole'.

"It was nice meeting the two of you." Gunny intervened. "The President has a full day scheduled, so, if you'll excuse us. We'll see you in a couple of days when the test results come in." The two men made their exit from the room.

"Gunny, don't you think that was a little harsh?" Nate asked as they walked down the hallway.

"Maybe, sir, but one of the things that President Russell's Chief of Staff told me to expect was a type of people who would do anything to get close to the Presidency. I don't think we can humour anyone unless we're sure." Gunny explained.

"That does sound like something that Gavin would tell you." Nate chuckled. The two of them ran into the First Lady as they walked down the hall. "Hey, honey." He kissed her on the cheek as she joined up with them.

"Hey, what was so urgent that I needed to be paged?" She looked up at her husband.

"You remember that nurse that Preston had before he died?" Nate started as the three of them kept walking toward the next meeting.

2035 ZULU

USS BATAAN

SOUTH OF CYPRUS

"Does it not drive you insane that with this storm system today, we have had nothing to do today but workout, eat and read?" Sergei asked as he looked down on to the lower bunk where Tamila was reading her book.

"No, with the way my days tend to work, it's nice to just do nothing for once. Besides, it wasn't completely nothing. I knocked you down in the boxing ring." She smiled up at him cutely.

"Yeah, you then straddled me, raised your hands in the air and proclaimed yourself 'Champion of the Universe', completely humiliating me in front of every other Marine in the gym." Sergei was trying to suppress the smile that image brought to his face.

"But it was fun for me. You Marines, you're not so tough as your propaganda makes you out to be." She lifted her legs up and kicked the bunk above her.

"Oh yeah?" Sergei goaded.

"Yeah." Tamila got up off her bunk and stood up to face him. She stuck her tongue out at him to tease him. Sergei leaped off his bunk and in a flash, he had his arms around Tamila's middle and he was tickling her senseless. She giggled out of reflex while simultaneously taking in the guilty pleasure of having his arms around her. She attempted to fight and roll out of his grip. She just caused the two of them to trip on to her bunk. Sergei fell on top of her, he held back a little so as not to crush her under him. Their lips were mere centimetres apart; their breaths were coming in long, ragged gasps.

"Got you." He whispered.

"Yeah." She returned, slightly out of breath. She felt a certain part of his anatomy pressing into her thigh as neither of them made a move to get out of that position. "We may have to move eventually."

"Yeah." Sergei slowly got to his feet and dusted himself off.

"I guess, that, uh, makes us even." She said in a voice slightly above a whisper.

"Obviously they don't teach tickle torture in the Mossad." Sergei joked as he leaned up against the wall in the stateroom.

"Oh, they do teach us other methods of retrieving information, Lieutenant." She swayed her hips as she sauntered over to him. She pressed her index finger into the middle of his chest as a gentle tease.

"Like what?" Sergei forced the lump in his throat downward.

She pressed herself up against his chest and brought her lips up to whisper into his ear. "Wouldn't you like to know?" Her tone was husky. "I think I'll go take a shower." She turned and grabbed a towel from the rack before heading for the bathroom.

Sergei gave his head a shake. What did the Naval Officer's Guide say about sex on an amphibious assault ship?

2210 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Mac sat down at the computer and began to type. She had just brought Sasha and Tommy home from the park when the idea had hit her. She remembered Nicole telling her about some of the things she did to keep in touch with her professional community and she remembered her saying something about submitting articles to magazines or professional journals. So, here she was some three hours later staring at what she considered to be a more insightful opinion then anything that she had ever written as a judge.

The paper was about seven pages long and incredibly well researched. Mac's memory allowed her to flawlessly recall cases and precedents from her time as a judge. She had written a position essay arguing for the reformation of fraternization regulations in the military. She revisited every major case that had argued the fraternization statute in the last year and in a style somewhat reminiscent of _'Common Sense'_, Mac had created a very cogent legal argument against the fraternization regulation.

Harm came in and saw Mac standing in front of the printer with a few sheets in her hand. "Oh, hey honey, I'm sorry I don't have anything ready, I just had this great moment of inspiration while walking the kids home from the park today." She walked over and kissed him on the cheek and gave him a hug. "Here, you read this and tell me what you think and I'll go make dinner."

"Mac, you don't have to do that, I could make dinner, I know how hard you work with the kids all day." Harm went to stride for the kitchen but Mac stopped him.

"No, Harm, this is really important, I really think that this article is worth sending into the Navy Legal Journal." She pushed the papers against his chest. "Read, I'm going to go cook." Harm had to give his mom and Mac serious kudos. Mac had taken to cooking like a natural and Trish had spared no expense in teaching her. He had always known that Mac would make a great mother and that was what she was doing. He had taken careful steps to ensure that she never felt like her life revolved around the house. He would help with the cooking when he got home early enough and work permitted. He would make sure that all the other members of the house picked up after themselves so that Mac didn't have to and he'd do any yard work or handy work that needed to be done.

Harm sat down on the couch and turned put the local country station on the radio. He began to read through the paper that Mac had handed him. His wife certainly had a more engaging writing style then anything that he could remember reading in law school. Then again, she also had a more engaging speaking style then any of the professors he could remember. He flipped through the pages reading page after page and common sense argument after common sense argument that placed the validity of such strict fraternization constraints, in serious question with the modern military force. Mac's argument had outlined the impracticality of trying to police behaviour which civilian society deemed normal.

If he was the judge, she was right on all counts and her argument would certainly be able to convince six court members in most of the services (the only ironic exception likely being the Marine Corps). He finished the paper and placed it down on the table. Damn his wife was incredible, he thought to himself. There were a lot of things about Mac that were sexy, but her greatest asset, the one that had always really done it for him was her brain. The notes of Collin Raye's _Anyone Else_ came through the radio and Harm got up from the couch and walked across the living room and into the kitchen.

He walked up behind Mac and wrapped his arms around her middle as she stood in front of the stove and planted a kiss on her shoulder. "You're amazing, you know that." He whispered in her ear as he swayed the two of them to the music.

"I take that to mean that you liked the paper." Mac smiled at his display of tenderness.

"You never cease to astound me with how profoundly sexy you can make your intelligence." He sounded almost poetic.

"Alright, who are you and what have you done with my husband?" Mac asked playfully as she flicked some spaghetti sauce on to his nose.

"He's right here." She smiled against the side of her head as he kissed her cheek. "It was a good article, Mac. A great argument, too. I think the Journal will publish it and I really hope that some young hot shot lawyer uses it in court to shed some light on this issue. I may use it if I feel like taking on a big fraternization case that crosses my desk." He brought his chin to rest on her shoulder. "That is, if I have the author's permission."

"You have can have a lot more of the author then just her permission, flyboy." Mac tossed at her husband and the two of them just stood there in a companionable silence making dinner.

2401 ZULU

THE EAST WING

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

The test results had come in earlier in the day. Helene Kostopolous was indeed Preston Ross' daughter. NCIS had run a test, the Secret Service had run a test and the Secret Service had even had the doctors at Bethesda run a test. They all said the same thing. Nate had the White House council look over the guardianship papers and once they assured him that everything was legitimate, Nate and Nicole both signed them, formally assuming custody of their thirteen year-old niece.

Now, Helene sat in her new bedroom at the White House. The amount of stuff that she had been able to bring over from Greece had barely been enough to fill a corner of the large bedroom. She just sat on the edge of the bed looking down at her hands. "It's a little overwhelming, isn't it kid?" She heard a voice from the doorway. She looked up and saw her Uncle Nate standing there, leaning against the doorframe.

"It's just that, a couple of months ago I wouldn't have known that I had any connection to you people at all, or that I had all this family in the States but three tests say I'm your niece and you're willing to open your home to me. Life changes kind of fast." She thought about her mom and began to tear up. "She only told me about you guys a handful of times."

"I always used to think that the greatest tragedy of my brother's life was that he defined himself in his final years by the chair that limited him." Nate took a few steps forward. "Helene, the greatest tragedy in your father's life was that he never had the chance to know how much meaning and love a child brings into your life. Nicole and I took you into our home because you are family. Every child deserves the love of a family; I just figure that I should warn you that ours is a little crazy sometimes."

The girl laughed at her uncle's joke. "Thanks, Uncle Nate." She wiped her eyes. "Maybe, some time you could tell me about him."

"Yeah." Nate nodded. "Before I forget, I figured that every kid should have a picture of their parents and I know you have one of your mom. So, I figured I should give you a picture of your dad." Nate produced a framed picture from behind his back. Helene took the picture from him and examined it. "That's me, your dad, and your grandfather in Kuwait in 1991."

"Grandpa? Will I get to meet him?" The child asked hopefully.

"Actually, your grandfather died last year." Nate felt bad for dashing the child's hopes. "But you will get to meet your grandma and all your aunts and uncles and maybe we'll talk Nicole into taking you shopping."

"Really?" The girl's eyes lit up.

"Of course, kiddo." Nate smiled and walked back over to the door. "Now get some sleep." He flicked the light off. Helene lay back on the bed and placed the picture down on her nightstand. Her father was a Marine, her grandfather was a Marine and her uncle was a Marine. Did they have no imagination in this culture? She joked to herself.

Nate walked down the hallway into the Presidential bedroom. Nicole was sitting up in bed watching ZNN. Nate grabbed his PJs and headed for the bathroom. A few seconds later he came walking out in his blue silk Presidential pyjamas. Nicole looked up at her husband. "How is it that you manage to make Presidential pyjamas look sexy?"

"It's a gift." He groaned as he stretched one arm over his head.

"The press is heaping adoration on you for this adoption thing. They're saying that it's a testament to your character, that you're a noble human being, all of that kind of mushy stuff." She gave a pat to the open side of the bed as an invitation to Nate.

"See, and I don't think we did anything extraordinary." Nate climbed under the comforter.

"They would have understood if you didn't adopt her. You're the President; you have a lot on your plate. Your sister Beverly and your brother Steve are both leading less hectic lives." Peach curled against her husband.

"I know, but Preston would have wanted me looking out for her. Besides, I know that you always wanted a little girl and we haven't had one to this point. It's unfair for you to be outnumbered five to one by men in the residence." He smiled and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you." She whispered tenderly and took his hand with one of hers as she turned off the TV.

"Who's your Commander in Chief?" Nate tossed in his best drowsy flirting tone.

"You are." She replied in her best ditzy impersonation. The next few seconds were filled with giggles until one finally heard a female voice say 'Oh, Nathan.'

2330 ZULU

USS BATAAN

SOUTHWEST OF CYPRUS

"Looks like the storm system passed." Tamila came out on to Vulture's Row where she found Sergei. "We never did finish our conversation from earlier. Why stay behind to convince a woman that you're not in love with to not marry another man?"

"I said earlier that I wanted to prevent her from making a mistake." Sergei didn't turn to face her.

"I don't believe you. But even if I did for a second, how did you go about that?" She put a supportive hand on his back and Sergei shook his head from side to side remembering the ball at the White House before he left.

"I did a lot of really stupid things." Sergei finally looked at Tamila. "I told her what I thought of the guy, I lashed out at her and she tried to talk me through a lot of what happened."

"There's more." Tamila brought her hand down next to his.

"How do you know?" Sergei asked, finally chancing a smile.

"It may only have been three weeks, Rabb, but I can tell when you're holding back." She slid her hand on to his. "What happened then?"

"We said goodbye." Sergei didn't want to go into the detail of exactly how they said goodbye. "I came out here to clear my head and I met you."

"For better or worse that you met me?" The Israeli fumbled through her sentence.

"Better." Sergei answered quickly. "Most of the time." He added with a laugh and she gave him a playful whack across the arm. "Besides, you've saved my six in a chopper; there aren't many people who could claim that." Sergei smiled that coy Rabb smile at her. "You're a good friend, Tamila."

"Hey, don't go getting all mushy on me now, Marine." She bumped him with her hips, knocking him off balance for a second.

"Well, given the choice between mushy and naughty, I figured you would prefer mushy." He winked at her before heading back through the hatch. Tamila was stunned; she stood out on Vulture's Row looking down at the flight deck for a second before turning around toward the hatch.

"Wait, what does that mean?" She called after him as she chased him down the corridor.


	17. Short Fuse

0134 LOCAL TIME

AIR FORCE ONE

SOMEWHERE OVER THE PACIFIC

The trip to India had been a resounding success. Prime Minister Chopra and President Ross had found they had very similar views on regional security and Naval activity in the Indian Ocean. They'd had a long discussion about the American role in Pakistan. Nate had to stress the crucial role that Pakistan played in American foreign policy as one among America's few Muslim allies. They had found common ground on economic issues and had sealed the three day visit with a hand shake and a joint press conference in front of the Taj Mahal.

Now, the staff and the First Family were attempting to get some much needed rest on the plane. Nate was sitting in his office chair, where he had fallen asleep watching ZNN after getting briefed on the latest Resolution from the House of Representatives. Charlie came running in and shook his boss's chair. "Sir, you're going to want to get up."

"What's going on, Charlie?" Nate asked as he stumbled out of his slumber.

"Iranian Air Defence Command just shot down an El Al Israel flight over the Strait of Hormuz. The plane was on it's way to Bangkok International Airport. There were two hundred and thirty Israelis on board along with fifty French citizens and twenty-two British." Charlie sat down across from the President.

"No Americans?" Nate rubbed his eyes.

"None, boss, thank God." Charlie answered.

"Charlie, line up phone calls for me. I want to speak to Prime Minister Cunningham first, then French President LeRocque, then the Israeli Prime Minister Nahon. After you get those three I want you to get the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the Secretaries of Defence and State as well as Gunny on the video conference. After I talk with them, get me a line to the Kremlin and give me a few minutes." Nate made sure to articulate so that none of his orders would be misinterpreted.

"Why do you want to speak to the British first, sir?" Charlie asked after ordering the staffer to set up the call.

"I know the way Dick Cunningham operates, when he gets fired up, he starts quoting Churchill and that will make the Iranians very nervous." Nate shook his head from side to side. This is why they called the President the leader of the Free World, because when the shit hit the fan he had to get on the phone and talk to the right people to make sure that no more people had to die. Would he be able to talk Cunningham down? Possibly. Would he be able to talk LeRocque down? Once again, possibly. Nahon, the Israeli Prime Minister would demand blood, and if all things were equal, his country had suffered the greatest in this latest attack, he had earned his blood. Nate punched the button to open line one on the phone. "Mr. Prime Minister on behalf of the American people I would like to express our greatest sorrow at the loss of your citizens."

"Thank you, Mr. President." Prime Minister Cunningham answered.

"Dick, you have to know that with all the progress that Iranian reformers have made in the last decade, we can't destroy it by jumping off the deep end." Nate warned as he leaned forward over his desk.

"Progress? Nathan, they're enriching uranium and they just shot down a passenger plane. That's more hostility then progress." The British PM argued.

"Yeah, except the Iranian expatriate community in Europe is having a growing influence back in Iran." Nate explained. "Don't escalate the conflict. Have you written a speech?" He tried to shift topics from the contentious issue.

"Yes." Cunningham answered.

"Do you quote Churchill more then once?" Nate had the staff smiling by this point.

"Maybe." Cunningham answered vaguely. "What's your point, Mr. President?"

"We're at a point right now where the Middle East is a powder keg that's going to blow up no matter what we do tonight. The Israelis are going to want to hit back for this one and I'm not going to be able to stop them. So, come out and condemn the attack and when Israeli planes achieve some retribution later tonight, rest easy in knowing that you didn't force the escalation of a conflict." Nate paused. "Now, I'm going to get on the phone with LeRocque in a second and explain to him exactly what I've just explained to you. Dick, tell me I've got your word that you're not going to escalate this."

"You do." Cunningham nodded. "I expect to hear your address once you land, Mr. President."

"You'll hear it over ZNN once I'm done making my calls, Mr. Prime Minister." Nate punched the button and ended the call. "One down, one to go." Nate punched the button fore Line Two and leaned forward pressing his nose down against his knuckles to prop his head up. "Evening, President LeRocque." Nate began.

"Good evening, President Ross, I trust that this call is about the evening's events." The Frenchman jumped right in.

"Yes, Jean, it is. The condolences of the American people are extended to you and your countrymen during this tragedy but we need to talk about the international response to the actions of the Iranian government." Nate understood that there existed a pretty consistent tug of war between the French and the American governments for the control of western public opinion.

"Mr. President, I assure you that it is not the want of the French government to make a bad situation worse. Our gravest concern at the moment is dealing with domestic terrorism and while we strongly condemn the action and will publicly say so, we consider western intervention in this crisis to be improper." The Frenchmen assured his American colleague in a dispassionate tone.

"I couldn't agree more, Jean. I look forward to speaking with you again." Nate smiled weakly.

"And I, you, President Ross." The Frenchman hung up his end of the phone and Nate did the same.

"I can't believe he gave in so easily." Charlie furrowed his brow.

"I can." Nate got up out of the chair and began pacing. "He's got an election in nine months with the National Front coming up hard on his right. He might not crack down on terrorism internationally but I see the French police creating waves of arrests against Iranian immigrants."

"Sir, we have a line to Prime Minister Nahon in Tel Aviv." Morley came through the door. "The Press wants to know what's going on. They aren't getting feeds from back home and seeing White House staff running around like deranged farm animals seems to have peeked their interests."

"Go out there, tell them that in about a half hour, I'll hold a press conference. If they have any camera uplink out there, it would be wise to power it up." Nate gave Morley a pat on the shoulder and sent pushed him out of the room. He walked over to the phone on his desk and loomed over the phone. "Charlie, make sure we have that video conference with General Fitzpatrick, Gunny, Secretary Chegwidden and Secretary Wallace set up by the time I'm done with Prime Minister Nahon."

"Will do, sir." Charlie assured his boss as he rushed to the comm. centre.

Nate punched the button and stood over the phone. "Good to talk to you, Yonatan, my apologies for the loss of your fellow Israelis."

"It is nice to speak with you as well President Ross. I have to tell you that nothing you can say will prevent me from striking back at the Iranians for this. They have committed a most grievous atrocity and they must be punished." The Israeli Prime Minister was a man very prone to passionate outbursts.

"I agree with you, Yonatan, I ask only that you use proportional force in your response. You have suffered a national tragedy, I ask that you honour their deaths in your retribution rather then sully their memories by acting to harshly and too irrationally." Nate stated his position as eloquently as possible at this time of night or……morning, whatever it was.

"That is easy for you to say, Mr. President, it is not over two hundred of your citizens that are dead because of a nation whose government has openly stated that one of it's goals is the extermination of your nation. You are not in a position to speak with me about measured responses." The Israeli was on the war path and Nate was wrangling to reel him back in.

"Yonatan, we do not wish to destabilize the whole region. One measured responsive action is justified, more is not and I think that you know that." Nate took a seat back down in his chair. Charlie came through the door at that moment.

"Mr. President, this is the latest in a long list of crimes committed against the Israeli people by Arab powers in the region, if my country is not permitted to act in its own defence then what is to stop other nations from attacking us if they need not fear our retribution. I am sorry, Mr. President, while I value your friendship highly I will not sacrifice the security of Israel." Yonatan Nahon had calmed slightly.

"I am not sure that I will be able to stand by your actions in your own defence if they exceed what is justified, Yonatan. But I do grieve for the lives already lost to this tragedy." Nate sighed. "Good night, Mr. Prime Minister."

"Shalom, Mr. President." The Israeli ended the phone call.

"Encouraging." Charlie deadpanned as he walked in.

"I can't blame him, if it was us, our public would be screaming so loud for blood that it would be deafening." Nate braced himself on the chair.

"Morley has the conference set up in the comm. centre, Mr. President." Charlie looked over at his boss. Nate nodded and the two of them walked through the bowels of Air Force One toward the comm. centre. When Nate walked through the door, Morley handed him a headset and Nate looked up at the screen which had been split into four quadrants.

"Alright, I take it that all of you know what's going on?" Nate looked up and saw nods from four of his senior advisors. "Good, Fitzy, I want you to tell me what military assets we have in the region that are at risk if the powder keg blows."

General Harkin Fitzpatrick or "Fitzy" as he was known to friends of equal or superior rank was a Marine General and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He'd also been General Jack's Chief of Staff when Jack Ross was the Commanding General of Camp Pendleton. "Well, sir, we've got the entire _Truman_ Battle Group in the Eastern Med basically sitting off the coast of Cyprus so that we could finish extracting our military advisors from Israel. We've got the _Stennis_ Battle Group in the Persian Gulf at the moment. Not to mention that Israeli action would likely provoke a response against our bases in Saudi Arabia and Kuwait as well as our embassies in the region all of which have Marine guards and then there are our troops in Afghanistan." Fitzy answered.

"Sir, may I ask what your considered course of action is?" AJ asked, fumbling with the headset attached to his ear.

"Nothing. This is just like the Madrid train attacks. It's a regional problem, we let the regional players settle their differences. Once American interests are involved, we'll get involved." Nate answered. "I don't want to hear the isolationist versus internationalist arguments here, I just want to issue orders. First off, I'm giving the order to go to DEFCON 3. Gunny, I want you to inform the Gang of Eight of my decision and make sure the Vice President is with you when you do so. Second, none our regional assets in the Middle East run flight ops without the expressed permission of USSTRATCOM, is that understood?" Nate looked down at General Fitzpatrick who was in the bottom of the screen once Gunny logged off so that he could go brief the Vice President and the Congressional leaders.

"Aye, aye, sir." Fitzy answered and logged off. Now Nate was left looking at his Secretaries of State and Defence.

"Sir, it seems worth mentioning that we were the ones who sold the Israelis most of the components of their current Air Command including the F-15E, F-16 and practically all their ground troop support aircraft. We're going to be tied to whatever retribution the Israelis reap upon the Iranians." AJ leaned forward toward the camera.

"I know that, AJ, and as much as it seems bad strategy to do this, in order to try and make peace in all this, we're going to have to distance ourselves from Israel a little bit." Nate sighed. Israel was particularly close to his heart, he hated even talking about backing away from it but at this point, a return to the status quo ante could only be achieved if someone stepped in who had no close connections to either side.

"If that's your decision, sir." AJ nodded and the last two faces disappeared from the screen.

"Alright, make sure the press is ready, Morley." Nate turned to his communications director.

2145 ZULU

USS BATAAN

NORTHWEST OF ISRAELI COAST

"All Officers report to the bridge, repeat, all officers to the bridge." The announcement came over the ship's intercom.

"We better get going." Sergei hopped down off the bunk and bounded for the hatch. He looked back at Tamila who was still on her bunk. "Well, come on."

"That was a general officer's call. I'm not an officer serving with this ship." Tamila answered.

"Wrong, you're an intelligence officer serving with this ship. Now, come on." Sergei argued and watched as Tamila climbed off the bunk and followed him out the hatch and toward the bridge. There was a flood of Marine and Navy officers heading for the bridge, it was almost like a roll was being taken to ensure that no one was sleeping on duty. There were 104 officers onboard and at this moment, every last one of them was bolting for the bridge. Sergei and Tamila were among the first to arrive after the CAG, Skipper and XO of course.

"Alright, we've got an order from EUCOM who got the order from USSTRATCOM who got the order from the top. We're grounded until further notice, nothing goes up in the air unless absolutely necessary and we have to relay all desires to run flight ops through USSTRATCOM, once again until further notice." The Skipper looked around at his officers.

"What's going on, Skipper?" The CAG asked, his eyes on his shoes.

"The Iranians shot down an El Al Israel flight over the Strait of Hormuz a little more then tow hours ago. They killed three hundred and two people, no Americans but two hundred and thirty Israelis were killed." The Skipper took his hat off and ran his hand over his balding head. "USSTRATCOM says that an Israeli response is imminent so we're shutting down outgoing communications until they get back to us. I'll open the floor to questions." The Skipper saw Agent Rosenbaum raise her hand. "Yes, Agent Rosenbaum."

"I was just wondering if there was some way that I might be able to get ashore, sir." Tamila lowered her hand.

"Have you been listening, Agent Rosenbaum? I'm not allowed to let so much as a cough leave this ship over the wire. So, unless you plan on jumping off the fantail and swimming the more then fifty miles to shore, I would say you're SOL." The Skipper turned toward his CAG. "I would say that you're in a rough spot, CAG, you're commander of a grounded Air Wing."

"Not a problem, sir, I'll consider it political leave." The CAG joked a few of his officers laughed.

"Alright, you're all dismissed, pilots are confined to quarters until further instructed." The Skipper wrapped up the meeting and the officers flooded off the bridge. Sergei watched as Tamila ran off back toward their quarters. He ran after her, to see what was wrong. He caught up with her just as she had hopped over the knee-knocker into their quarters. Sergei closed the hatch behind them.

"Tamila, it's going to be okay." Sergei moved toward her. He heard her sniffle and curse in Hebrew.

"No, no it isn't!" She screamed at him. "No, it isn't!" She moved closer to him as she began to sob. "My parents, my sister, her family, they all live in Nahariyya just south of the Lebanese border. Whenever there's a conflict, they always rain down rockets on the city, it's not safe for them, they need to go south, my mother has relatives in Tel Aviv, and I need to tell them."

Sergei moved toward her. "You can't, not until we get orders. The Skipper's not going to risk tipping off Iranian intelligence to the Israeli response. You know that, you know that whatever your Defence Forces are doing is bigger then just one family."

"They're _my_ family, damn it. No one's going to be lobbing rockets at Washington DC. They'll be hurling them at Haifa and Nazareth and Nahariyya and it will be Israelis that are faced with the end result." She got in close and began to pound on his chest. "It'll be people like my family who have to live with it. Don't you understand?" She sobbed and Sergei hugged her against his chest. She stood there and cried for awhile.

"Tamila, the second the Skipper frees up comm. I swear I will make sure that you are the first person to make a ship to shore call, okay?" He tilted her chin back and looked down in to her deep brown eyes. He cupped her left cheek in his hand and brushed away her tear with his thumb.

"Thank you." She nodded at him a placed a small kiss in the middle of his palm before pulling him in for a tight hug. "I'm scared, Sergei. I'm really scared."

"I know, me too." He held her close as the two of them sat down on her bunk and waited for what the Skipper had termed 'further orders'.

0503 LOCAL

AIR FORCE ONE

SOMEWHERE OVER THE PACIFIC

"Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States." Morley announced and Nate came walking into the press gallery at the back of the plane.

"As you have no doubt heard by now, El Al Airlines Flight 576 was shot down by Iranian Air Defence Command late last night. Latest intelligence indicates no survivors in the attack. The United States is completely abhorred and disgusted by such a ruthless attack on innocent civilians. I have been dealing with this issue personally since first learning of the news this morning and have discussed the measures which will be taken to reprimand the Iranian government for such an action. We live in a world where shades of grey do exist but there can be no doubt that this was an act of absolute evil, there is no shade of grey here." Nate looked up from his prepared notes. "I'll take questions now, I'm sorry if I don't know you all by name yet, so I'll just point." The reporters' hands flew into the air and Nate just began pointing.

"Sir, you've come out with some very strong rhetoric tonight, are you creating the groundwork for an American led intervention in Iran?" One reporter questioned.

"Iran is a rogue state, many of its original revolutionaries will tell you that the mullahs who now control the country have corrupted the original goals of the revolution that they led. Nevertheless, the Iranian people are the ones who must overturn this government if that is their wish. If they do not wish to further alienate themselves, or further make themselves the object of the rest of the world's scorn, then I would say that it would be a wise wish." Nate pointed to another reporter.

"Sir, have you spoken with Israeli Prime Minister Nahon?" The reporter immediately brought his pen down to record the President's answer.

"I have spoken with him. I conveyed to the Prime Minister the deepest condolences of the American people for the loss of his countrymen." Nate decided against volunteering any more.

"Sir, what kind of response will the international community formulate in response to this incident?" The ZNN reporter asked.

"That would be more of a question for the UN Secretary General. In the last decade, we had sanctioned Iran, tried to persuade our allies to cut off trade and even attempted to get the IAEA into the country to inspect their nuclear enrichment program but the Iranian government continues to defy the UN. You'd have to ask the Secretary General what more he thinks the UN could do." Nate pointed toward the Washington Post reporter.

"Sir, do you know what the Israeli response will be?" The reporter asked.

"No, I'm not a part of the IDF High Command." Nate smiled sarcastically.

"Follow up, sir. A few years ago, a top General at Israeli Air Defence command said that he would go two thousand miles, or the distance from Israel to Tehran, in order to prevent Iran from attacking his country, do you suspect that this is the case tonight?" The reporter pressed.

"Once again, I'm not a part of the IDF high command, you would have to ask them." Nate moved on. Off to the side, in the doorway to the Executive Office cabin, Charlie came up next to Morley.

"The Israelis just responded, get him out of there." Charlie was almost out of breath. Morley tossed Nate the sign to wrap things up due to an urgent matter and Nate concluded his press briefing. He walked over and joined his top aides.

"What's going on?" Nate looked at Charlie.

"Boss, the Israelis just hit the Iranians with an Alpha Strike, every fighter or bomber aircraft that they could get off the ground was in the air." Charlie began.

"I know what an Alpha Strike is, Charlie, what did they hit?" Nate had his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"CIA says 97 percent of all Iranian nuclear facilities were destroyed and 40 percent of the Iranian Air Force was destroyed before it could get off the ground." Charlie answered. "Casualties are comparatively light considering we're talking about massive underground nuclear explosions."

"What are they, Charlie?" Nate was suddenly very on edge.

"All tolled from the nuclear facilities and the Air Bases; reported casualties is 58,000." Charlie swallowed the lump in his throat. "Those are the numbers that the Iranians are broadcasting, so it could be a little lighter then that. Boss, there's one more thing."

"What more could there possibly be?" Nate was pissed off.

"Iran just declared war on Israel." Charlie blurted out and Nate's blood ran cold.

"Get up to the cockpit, find out how far we are from Washington, Charlie. If we're over Hawaii, we'll go on to Washington, if not, we're taking this bird down at USSTRATCOM. Morley, get me Clayton Webb on the comm. conference and for God's sake will someone wake my National Security Advisor!" Nate shouted as he and Morley headed for the comm.

When they got there, they found National Security Advisor Mike Bradley already speaking with CIA Director Clayton Webb. "Nice to know someone around here shows initiative." Nate grumbled as he took his headset. "What the hell is going on, Webb? Why the hell didn't Langley know that the Iranians were this close to the edge?"

"We didn't have any concrete proof. When they moved strategic missile sites to the coast near Hormuz we figured it was to frighten us away from sending Battle Groups into the Persian Gulf. We never believed they would do this." Webb answered.

"Clayton, a lot of unexpected things seem to happen when you're in control of CIA business." Nate was beginning to take out his frustrations. "Mike, you've been imbedded in the area. Is your gut telling you the same thing that mine is telling me?"

"That Syria is going to be the next domino to fall? Yeah, boss, afraid so." Mike answered. "IRGC units already operate freely in Syria and they work with Hezbollah in Eastern Lebanon. Iran goes to war, we can expect a Syrian declaration inside the next twelve hours."

"Then this becomes a UN problem." Nate began to pace. "UN forces patrol the Israel-Syria border and the Israel-Lebanon border. When UN forces start dying because of Hezbollah rockets, I'm going to have a lot more European leaders barking for blood."

"Well, the Iranians are largely defenceless against Israeli air attacks. The forty percent of Air Bases the Israelis took out, were the bases that housed their anti-aircraft shield. With the shield down, the Israelis can shoot fish in a barrel. Nahon had already moved up the IDF security level and rolled the tanks back into Gaza." Webb intervened. "What do we do now, boss?"

"We wait, the Security Council reconvenes Monday. Webb, tell the Secretary of State that I want her sitting in on that Security Council meeting. The Israelis have fought back all out offensives in '48, '56, '67 and '73, they can do it again because we can't help them." Nate shook his head and put his hand on his forehead.

"Right, boss, I'm on it." Webb logged off.

"You're right, boss, we can't get involved, we get involved, shit gets worse." Mike Bradley turned toward the President.

"Mike, call up the Saudis, the Indonesians, the Kuwaitis and the guys from the UAE, see if OPEC can't keep oil prices down for the next little while." Nate groaned.

"They're going to want something in return, boss." Mike pulled his headset off his head.

"I know, make the call anyway and forestall any weapons shipments we've got headed for Israel." Nate hung his shoulders, he didn't like playing politics with war. It was a risky game.

0254 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"I was ten the last time something like this happened." Harm paced and Mac sat on the couch looking at the TV. "Oil prices went through the roof."

"You're nervous because your brother's on a float in the Med." Mac gave a pat to the couch cushion next to her. "Harm, he's on an American ship on the Mediterranean side of Israel, he's not in the Gulf or the Arabian Sea."

He had to remember that Mac didn't know about the incident with the _Kaufmann_ from a couple of months back. He took a heavy breath. There was a short fuse on tensions in the Middle East, there always had been. It was a bad combination of religious, ethnic and territorial conflict. The phone rang and Harm's arm snapped down to pick up the phone. "Rabb." He answered.

"Harm, this is Bax, get ready, I just got a call from Tom Boone, President's calling in top brass to meet him at USSTRATCOM. I'm on my way over to your house, we've got to catch a hop out of Andrews that's sitting on the tarmac." Bax explained rather quickly.

"Why am I going, I'm just the JAG." Harm asked as he headed over to the closet.

"The President is about to shuffle the deck. A lot of Jacks are about to become Kings, buddy." Bax clicked off the phone.

"Honey, I've got to go." Harm walked over, leaned over the back of the couch and kissed Mac on the cheek.

"Where are you going?" She asked, leaning back over the couch to look at her husband.

"Offutt Air Force Base." Harm answered as he threw his uniform back on.

"That's in Nebraska, you're going all the way to Nebraska tonight?" Mac furrowed her eyebrow.

"Does that really surprise you with what you're seeing on ZNN?" Harm pointed at the TV.

"Good point." She got up from the couch. "What did Bax have to say?"

"Just made some weird card metaphor." He leaned in and kissed her quickly on the lips as he slid on his Navy Blue overcoat. "How did you know it was Bax calling?"

"Who else would call at this hour?" Mac smiled at her husband as she slanted the cover on his head. "There, you look a little more distinguished now."

"Is it cause I'm getting more grey hair?" He tossed her a flyboy grin.

"Get out of here." She gave him a pat on the butt as he jogged toward the front door. Harm jogged out into the snow just as Bax pulled into the drive. Some months back, Jen had convinced Bax that the Mustang was impractical in the winter as much as he loved the car. So, he'd bought a Chevy Silverado pickup truck. Harm opened the door and climbed into the vehicle.

"Guess those tremors that we've all been feeling for the last eighteen months just turned into a major case of epilepsy." Harm adjusted his seat belt as Bax pulled the car back out into the street. "Who's going to be on the hop with us?"

"No one big. President's Chief of Staff, Joint Chiefs of Staff, Secretary of Defence, Deputy Secretary of Defence, the OpNavs office." Bax answered as he manoeuvred the truck along the roads that led them to the Beltway.

"Do you think we're at war?" Harm looked over at his friend of twenty-eight years.

"Not yet." Bax answered.

2403 ZULU

USS BATAAN

NORTHWEST OF ISRAELI COAST

They had laid on the rack for three hours in their quarters waiting for something. For anything that might tell them what was going on. He held her quivering form against him, trying to tell her that even on this floating steel island in the middle of the sea, there was someone who supported her. She had fallen asleep about an hour earlier but he really didn't care. He just lay there staring up at his bunk above them and lightly stroking her hair.

"Officers, this is the Skipper, comm. has been restored. Confinement to quarters still in place." The Skipper announced and Sergei decided to stir Tamila. He lightly pushed on her shoulder until he saw her eyelids flutter open.

"Hey, you." She whispered as she woke up.

"Hey, they restored comm. we still can't get out to the ship to shore phone but you can use the email." He pointed at the computer. She climbed over him to get out of the bunk and walked across the stateroom to the computer desk. She began to type rapidly to get into her email account and Sergei watched her for a sign of relief or distress, just something that would tell him what was going on. After a few seconds, he heard her clap her hands together and begin to pray. "Good news, I hope."

"They evacuated south once they heard about the attack." She got out of the chair and wrapped him in a big hug. "My brother just emailed me telling me that they made it to Tel Aviv alright." She pulled back and looked in his eyes. Her left hand made it's way up to the short hair on the back of his head. "I want to thank you, for everything you've done."

"You don't have to." He whispered gently back to her.

"You don't know how much it meant to me for you to be here with me." She inched her face just a little closer to him. He closed his eyes as he bent his head down and she closed hers as she reached up for him. Their lips met and a spark of electricity flew between them. The kiss had started out slow and soft but it soon spun out of control. She was a little more forceful then she had originally intended to be and he responded actively. The match for supremacy between their tongues was testament to that. "Let's see if you Marines have earned your reputation." She pushed him into a seated position on the bottom bunk as she pulled her top over her head.

Sergei took a minute to take her in. She was gorgeous. Her light olive skin tone hit just the right inflections in just the right places to compliment her curves. Her breasts were exposed before him, his eyes fixated there for a second before travelling up to the mischievous gleam in her eyes. She walked over and straddled him, placing one knee on either side of his thighs. She pulled the MARPAT uniform and undershirt over his head and began to kiss his lips and neck.

She needed him and he needed her. Everyone needed someone it seemed in the world tonight. Unlike the rest of the world however, their big discussion could be put off until morning.

0847 ZULU

OFFUTT AIR FORCE BASE

SARPY COUNTY, NEBRASKA

Air Force One touched down and the Secret Service could barely keep up with Nate who kept a brisk pace as he walked from the airplane to the LeMay Building. Gunny had met him out on the tarmac and had briefed him on who exactly had shown up to the meeting. The White House staff flanked the President as the First Family was taken into Officer Country to be housed for the next couple of hours. Nate walked into the LeMay Building with Gunny by his side ready to face more brass then he had ever seen at one time when he was a Marine. It was a bit of an ego boost to know that they all had to salute him.

The doors to the conference room opened wide and everyone got to their feet. "Alright, I want the best appraisal of the situation we've got." Nate had his jacket and tie off and his sleeves rolled up passed his elbows.

"An Iranian declaration of war against Israel and a subsequent Syrian declaration, at least one we're expecting inside the next few hours, means that all our forces in range of the conflict more their intelligence readiness up to DEFCON 3 automatically but since you've already given that order, all our forces move up. We've got the _Truman_ in place of Israel and the _Stennis_ in place in the Gulf. The only problem is that with the Iranians already shooting at things that go through Hormuz, it might take some doing to get the battle group out unscathed." AJ Chegwidden leaned on his right elbow.

"No, the Israelis knocked out that part of Iranian Air Defence during their raid. The Iranians couldn't protect the Strait right now if they wanted to. Thing is, they don't want to, it leaves Tehran unguarded, so intelligence suggests that they'll centralize their air defences around Tehran and other major cities. They know that Hezbollah is going to target Israeli civilians and they know that the Israeli ability to completely level Iranian cities far outweighs their ability to respond." Clayton Webb leaned back in his chair with his pen between his teeth.

"Alright, so the Iranians are going to be dependent upon the Syrians if they want to be able to hope to contest Israeli air superiority. Did we get our last military advisor out of Israel?" Nate looked down at the Joint Chiefs.

"_Truman _reports picking up the last one yesterday around 1300 Jerusalem Time, sir." Admiral Barris answered.

"Alright, so we have a military presence in a region that is about to experience the largest conflict in the last thirty five years. We have a clear interest in seeing one side win but it's not in our best interest to directly intervene. Sounds to me like we're up a diplomatic version of shit creek." Nate ran his index finger over his chin. "Gunny, you talked to OPEC, what kind of message did we get from them?"

"They told us that they'd play ball for twelve business days. That gives us about two and a half weeks to get this thing resolved before the people start feeling it at the pumps and American public opinion starts getting weary of our Israel policy." Gunny leaned into the table on his elbows. "Anyway, we can get this resolved in two and a half weeks?"

"Clayton?" Nate looked down the table at the CIA Director.

"Two and a half weeks, at this rate the Israelis will have destroyed both the Syrian and the Iranian Air Forces. Likely spot of ground conflict, if there's going to be one, is the Bekaa Valley." Webb took the pen out of his mouth and set it down on the table.

"Israel's best way of securing their northern border. It may be Lebanon, but the Lebanese aren't going to object to a Syrian presence that's been there for twenty years and the Israelis aren't going to care, they're just going to blast the Syrians." Mike Bradley hunched over the table.

"Alright, I can see only one problem here and it's that we've got three bases that fall outside of the EUCOM command but are caught in the line of fire here." General Fitzpatrick piped up.

"A problem of organization? Easily solved, all we need is a theatre commander. Someone with four stars who knows exactly what they're doing." Nate looked around the table. "The dividing line for ground forces will be the Iran-Afghan border. Anything East of that falls under COMPACFLT as it usually does. Anything attached to COMPACFLT on sea will remain so attached. Anything west of the Iran-Afghan border falls under theatre command. Now does, anyone have any suggestions for a theatre commander?"

"Lieutenant General Campbell." The Air Force Chief of Staff suggested. "He's the current head of Air Force Special Operations Command."

"I know the man, Bart, but let's be realistic, with the possible exceptions of Hap Arnold and Curtis LeMay, no Air Force General has ever held a theatre command." Fitzy jumped in.

"The Army has experience though, sir. I suggest Lieutenant General Waldowski, Army Pacific Commander." The Army Chief of Staff looked up at the President.

"Come on, Larry, the guy's a legendary elbow bender." Admiral Barris interjected.

"Fitzy, give me a recommendation and please break this service loyalty streak, give me the best man for the job." Nate looked down at his dad's old Chief of Staff. General Harkin Fitzpatrick or 'Fitzy' looked now a little bit like Henry Fonda in '_In Harm's Way' _by Nate's judgement. His hair was thinning and he was a generally svelte man with more then a few worry lines and a way of letting people know when the stars on his shoulders began to feel a little heavy.

"Vice Admiral Baxter." Fitzy pointed down the table at Bax. "SEAL, commander of a Battle Group when he was skipper of the _Patrick Henry_. Last four years he's been the DCNO, and an heir to Arleigh Burke in spirit if I've ever met one."

"Any opposition?" Nate looked around the table and saw no one shake their head or raise their hand.

"Admiral Rabb, you were the acting DCNO when the fleets were reorganized last summer. What's the command ship in the Mediterranean?" Nate looked down the row at Harm.

"The _USS Robert Kennedy_, sir. She's one of the new Halsey class super-amphibs we ordered back in '02." Harm looked down at the table rather then up at the President.

"Alright, Admiral Baxter, you have your orders." Nate looked down at Bax who nodded his head. "Bart, anyway we can get a COD to lift Admiral Baxter out to the _Boston Bob?_" Nate's attention shifted to the Air Force Chief of Staff.

"On it, boss." The Air Force General got out of his chair.

"Good meeting , everyone. Keep yourselves updated. Navy brass, except Admiral Baxter, with me." Nate and Gunny got up and headed out to Air Force One again.

"Gunny, what's going on, why the hell is he so surly?" Harm caught up with his old friend.

"No offence, sir, but he's been up for thirty-eight hours straight and he's hopped across more then a half dozen time zones. Not to mention that this whole thing hit us in mid-flight somewhere over the Marianas Islands. It's been a long night and he's been pounding back coffee since around 1am Tokyo time. You'd be tired too." Gunny answered as he, along with the Navy brass climbed up the steps on to Air Force One.

The First Family had been returned from officer's country by an Air Force guard along with their Secret Service detail. They occupied the President's cabin in Air Force One while Nate took the brass and Senior Staff right into his office. "I don't suppose any one has shoulder-boards for a three star Admiral handy?" Nate looked around at Sturgis, Harm and Admiral Barris.

"I got these from Baxter when he left for the COD." Barris showed the President the two sets of shoulder-boards.

"Congratulations, Harm, you just took Baxter's place as Deputy Chief of Naval Operations." Nate shook Harm's hand. "For the time being you'll be attached to the White House staff office instead of the Pentagon, Gunny will find you an office. Admiral Barris, give him the oath."

As Harm raised his right hand and prepared to take the oath, he remembered what it was they used to say about the vacuum at the beginning of a war, it turned a lot of Captains into Admirals and a lot of Admirals into heroes.


	18. Turks At the Gate

1530 ZULU

USS ROBERT KENNEDY

SOUTH OF CYPRUS

Admiral Ethan Baxter, known to everyone in the Mediterranean-Near Asian Theatre of Operations as CINCMED, stood on the bridge of the _USS Robert Kennedy_ known colloquially as _Boston Bob_ to those who served on her. He peered through the binoculars and saw one of the Destroyers attached to the carrier battle group off in the distance. The protocol for a flagship that served another purpose, such as a carrier or one of these new super-amphibs, was that the Skipper commanded the ship as usual and didn't interfere with the Theatre commander's staff and the theatre commander ran the theatre and didn't intervene with the day to day running of the ship.

Bax had a staff of fourteen officers on the ship with him and a complete office on the shore in Gaeta, Italy. The Syrian declaration of war against Israel had come pretty much as expected. And pretty much as expected, the Israeli Air Defence Command was up in the air within minutes, they knocked out Syrian Air Bases before they could even get their planes into the air, eliminating over 70 percent of Syria's Air Warfare capability. It was almost pathetic to watch, the Israelis had trained for this kind of thing, drilled for it even but the Syrians were so remarkably unprepared that it had cost them their Air Force which mean that they would be at the mercy of the Israelis every time they attempted to move troops.

Bax knew that Israeli pilots were very good, after all, more then half of them had done an exchange in the States at some point and they had trained with the best American Naval aviators that they Navy could offer. The few Syrian pilots left who had been trained by the Soviets were no good without their aircraft and the rest of them were of no use other then as courier pilots. Both Iran and Syria still maintained some fighter aircraft after the initial Israeli attacks however and those planes were being stored out of plain sight. Bax kept his planes grounded, he didn't want them getting mixed up in the fighting. Especially since the retirement of the F-14 had forced the Navy to conscript the F-15E into carrier service. The Israelis also flew the F-15, no way those birds were leaving the deck.

"Admiral, you've got a briefing." Bax's Chief of Staff tapped him on the shoulder. Bax's fourteen man command staff was made up of three Navy, three Marines, four Air Force and four Army including his Chief of staff, a bird Colonel named Rodriguez.

"Of course, Colonel." Bax nodded and dropped the binoculars. No sea was ever as blue as the Mediterranean or as pristine and no sea had ever witnessed so much war and bloodshed.

SAME TIME

USS BATAAN

SOUTHEAST OF CYPRUS

Sergei came back in from an early meeting of the Air Wing to find Tamila awake. He'd had to leave around 0400 this morning in order to meet up with the Air Wing and be updated on the latest developments. The CIA agents on board had given the Skipper and his officers up to the minute updates of what was going on for a few hours. He'd let her sleep. She couldn't be of any help to Mossad right now, there was no way she could get off the ship and there was no way the new CINCMED was going to let an Israeli aircraft land on an amphib to pick up a Mossad agent. Besides, he liked having her here. He walked in and lay down on the bunk next to her. "Morning, sunshine." He smiled at her and she giggled at him.

"You don't regret what we did last night?" She asked as she rolled on to her side to face him.

"Wasn't it technically this morning?" He answered, his grin widening ever so slightly. She smacked his shoulder and laughed.

"You know what I meant." She brought her fingertips up to trace his hairline.

"I know that you're a beautiful woman who has tested my resolve since you stepped foot on this ship and that last night was just the culmination of all that. I couldn't regret it, I really like being with you." He had tried to find some way to not say love, it was a cheap trick but he wasn't in love with her yet and lying to her was worse then creative used of language.

"Well, I really like being with you, too." She took him by the chin and kissed his lips quickly. "And I would really like being with you, in the shower." She raised a mischievous eyebrow and bounded over him heading for the shower in the bathroom. He knew he had to tell her what was happening before the shower.

"Tamila, wait." Sergei started but she walked over to him and rand her hands over his chest and kissed him again.

"What is it?" She asked in a low husky voice.

"It can wait until later." Sergei nodded as she took him by the hand and led him toward the bathroom that was attached to their quarters. He was right, the war wasn't going anywhere, he could tell her after the shower.

1432 ZULU

THE OVAL OFFICE

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

President Nathan Ross sat facing the key members of his administration who were dealing with this issue. They should have ideally moved this conversation to the Situation Room but there was no need to do that at this juncture. The Secretary of Defence was at the Pentagon trying to manage the pandemonium that had reigned this morning after the weekend's events. The Secretary of State was at the Truman Building trying to accomplish the same task with her diplomats and Ambassadors.

In place of the Secretary of Defence sat Tom Boone and Harmon Rabb both of whom were more then able to cover for AJ Chegwidden. Treasury Secretary Danny Proper paced the floor. The big four members of White House Senior Staff were there with Gunny having just come through the door with the Vice President. "Our first concern is the American people and that means we've got to find a way to get oil from someone who isn't OPEC once this two and a half week deadline of theirs is up." Nate looked around. "Danny, what would it take for us to convince oil companies to import from a non OPEC country?"

"A bloody miracle, Nate." The Treasury Secretary answered. "There's an outside chance that we might be able to convince them to import oil from Canada or from some of the countries that are a part of the North Sea drilling projects but that will only account to replace maybe ten percent of our current imports from the Middle East."

"What about Russia?" Nate looked around and he saw a few people flinch. "Alright, putting aside our Cold War stereotypes and hatreds, let's talk about this realistically. Russia's oil production sits on top of some of the largest oil deposits in the world. Could we feasibly work with the Russians to import enough oil from them so as to be able to prevent an OPEC price hike from hurting us?"

"Without directly intervening in the market, boss, it might be tough." Danny Proper gave it to his boss straight.

"Danny, you talk to every oil exec that you can get on the phone and you tell them that if they agree to this they can make the conversion on their own terms, if they don't, I'm going to address a joint session of congress tonight, get the American people behind me and make them do it on _my_ terms." Nate's shoulders seemed to inflate as he openly flexed some presidential muscle.

"I think they'll get the picture, sir." Danny laughed as he headed out of the oval.

"Charlie, get the Russian President on the line tell him I want to talk to him. In person would be preferable but over the phone works too." Nate sent his Deputy Chief of Staff off to task. "Morley, Stacy, I want the only press message here to be how we're working on keeping oil prices low. How we're trying to make sure that Americans aren't going to get gouged at the pumps because of Iranian tempers." The Communications Director and Press Secretary nodded at the President and left.

"Nate, we've got to do something about this Israel business, I've had twelve calls in the last two days from AIPAC and they are breathing down my neck something fierce about you stopping weapons shipments to Israel in the middle of a war." The Vice President groaned.

"I know it's tough, Wes, I'd like nothing more then to have the _Stennis_ and _Truman_ Air Wings swat the Iranians and Syrians out of the air like the flies that they are." Nate began to explain but Tom Boone jumped in.

"The Israelis seem to be doing that just fine on their own, sir." Tom said in his own homespun way.

"That they do, Tom. Just remind AIPAC who is was that gave Israel the weapons that they are at current using to beat the shit out of their enemies okay, Wes?" Nate shook hands with the Vice President who headed back toward his own office. "Alright, exactly what has Baxter done in the last day to the Mediterranean Fleet?"

"Nothing drastic." Harm jumped in. "He's got the entire _Truman_ Battle Group just sitting between Cyprus and Israel. All flight ops have been grounded except for AWACS off the _Truman_ itself as per your order last night, sir."

"Well, that's good. Anything come in from the Marine guards at the embassy in Damascus?" Nate turned toward Tom Boone.

"A few light protests. The Captain of the guard stepped up security a little but not too much, what's amusing is that they're not coming after us as hard as they came after the Danes about that cartoon a couple of years ago." Tom sat straight against the back of the chair.

"I'm not sure whether I should be relieved or insulted that we can't offend Muslims as much as a cartoon." Nate joked as he let out a heavy breath. "Keep an eye on it, Tom, and keep Harm in the loop. He's going to be the one updating me on our military situation over there."

"Yes, sir." With that, Tom and Harm left the Oval leaving Nate and his Chief of Staff sitting on the opposing couches.

"You know what my favourite movie is, Gunny?" Nate kicked off his shoes and brought his feet up on to the couch.

"It's _'The Candidate'_, sir. It's the only movie you watch on Air Force One." Gunny answered with a small chortle.

"Very observant, Gunny. There's this one point in the movie where McKay, Redford's character, he turns to his advisor Marvin, played by the guy who plays the dad on _Everybody Loves Raymond?"_ Nate paused for a second to see if Gunny was following him.

"Yeah, I know the actor." Gunny nodded smiling at the way his boss made obscure points.

"Anyway, right after he's won the election, Redford's character turns to his advisor, and he looks at him and he asks the only question every politician has asked; he says, _'Marvin, what do we do now?'_" Nate laughed.

"Sir, is there a point to all this?" Gunny asked.

"Yeah, I'm laying the groundwork for an inside joke so that I don't sound completely crazy when I say this." Nate hunched forward, swinging his legs off the couch and digging his elbows into his knees. "Marvin, what do we do now?"

SAME TIME ZULU

USS ROBERT KENNEDY

EAST OF CYPRUS

"Do the Syrians even have a Navy?" Air Force Major Todd Brinks looked up at his CO.

"Small one, Major. The Israelis have one, too and our Battle Group is sitting right between the two." Admiral Baxter sniped sarcastically at the naïve young Air Force officer. "The problem occurs because we're in international waters and we're a non participant nation in the conflict. However, if anyone here knows anything about Maritime law, we can't legally infringe on a vessel's right to sail through international waters unless we're sanctioned by the UN to do so."

"Which we of course aren't." Colonel Rodriguez added and got a mean glare from Bax.

"This of course means that if the Israeli Navy and the Syrian Navy decided to tango out here in the Med, we can't do anything, we have to stand by and watch. If anyone one of the ship commanders decides to get brave and fire a torpedo or a missile, I'm going to have the personally keel-hauled, make sure that they understand that." Bax closed the folder. "You're all dismissed."

"If I could have a minute of your time, Admiral." Commander Borowicz stayed behind inside the hatch.

"Absolutely, Commander, take a seat." Bax point to the chair. "What's on your mind, son?" Oh God, had he really just said that? Since when was he old enough to be referring to guys his girlfriend's age as 'son'? There was something drastically wrong here. He gave his head a shake.

"Sir, shouldn't we be intervening in this somehow? I mean, I know the President is trying to save lives but last I checked, Israel was listed as a 'Major Non-NATO Ally' doesn't that mean that we should be helping them? I mean as it is, we could become collateral damage by just sitting here." The young Commander was obviously exasperated.

"If I know Admiral Rabb, Commander, he's telling the President that very thing. See, the Admiral and I both agree with you on the level of how wrong it is to handcuff American power in a war zone. The thing is, we were here before Iran declared war and shot down that El Al flight, so the likelihood of Syria screwing with the American Navy to get to the Israeli Navy is non-existent. This isn't a war, it's a calculated political action by both sides. The Iranians wanted to turn international political opinion against Israel, they didn't anticipate the Israelis going completely off the deep end and bombing them into the Stone Age. Unless this thing escalates, we aren't getting involved, Commander." Bax leaned forward and took off his blue _USS Robert Kennedy_ cap.

"So, we're just going to sit on the bench for this one?" Borowicz must have been double checking.

"If it will save lives, Commander. That's usually the best course of action." Bax answered as he got back to his feet. "You're dismissed."

"Aye, aye, sir." The Commander came to attention and headed through the hatch. Besides now just feeling old, Bax also felt full of shit, and he wasn't particularly fond of either feeling.

1839 ZULU

THE OVAL OFFICE

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

"Sir, you have a visitor." Gunny peeked his head into the door.

"Send them in, Gunny." Nate was looking over the latest OPEC numbers sent over from Treasury.

"You're one of only a few people who wouldn't look small behind that desk." The heavily accented voice said and Nate immediately raised his eyes to look up at his visitor.

"Nikolai!" Nate walked across the office and wrapped his roommate in a big hug.

"It is good to see you as well, Nate." Nikolai answered. "It's a most odd thing to take your first State visit completely in secret." The two of them chuckled. "We're facing down an international crisis, Nathan."

"That we are, my old friend, that we are." Nate exhaled heavily. "Did Gunny talk to you about the oil imports?"

"Yes he did, your Chief of Staff is most efficient, he was able to put this together with my staff in two days. As I said, most efficient." Nikolai put his hand on his friend's back as the two of them walked over to the couches in the middle of the room.

"Thanks, Gunny." Nate called over to his Chief of Staff who was still standing in his private doorway to the oval.

"Not a problem, sir. Your wife said that the two of you think well together." Gunny smiled at his boss.

"Actually, Gunny, I believe I said they _drink_ well together." Nicole appeared in the doorway to the Oval.

"Nicole, it is nice to see you again." Nikolai smiled at the First Lady who walked into the office. "Are you going to join us?"

"It seemed to me that the three of us always did our best thinking in times of crisis while we were in the same room." She sat next to her husband and put her hand on his back. "Our countries need each other, Nikolai. No other time in history has the opportunity presented itself to draw the Russian Federation and the United States closer together. Let's not waste this opportunity."

"You married a good woman, my friend." Nikolai chuckled.

"I think we both married well above our league, Nikolai." Nate nodded slightly. "What do you think of the oil imports?"

"I think it's a great idea. I'll apply a little pressure to the Russian companies to get them to bend to meet the necessary costs." Nikolai answered. "Since you're not selling arms to Israel for the duration of the conflict, my government has signed an agreement with Prime Minister Nahon which allows us to."

"I'm glad someone did." Nate stated simply. "When did you begin shipping out weapons?"

"Late last night the first transports left their docks in the Black Sea, they should be in the Bosporus by tonight." Nikolai motioned for his own Chief of Staff who handed him a large leather bound report. "We also sent them these." He held up the book. "These are the specs on every piece of equipment we ever sold to Damascus or Tehran going back to 1975."

"Very handy indeed." Nate laughed. "Gunny, I'm going to need a bottle of vodka, five Montreal Smoked Meat sandwiches and a bottle of Santa Carolina 1994 Chilean Merlot. Think you can get those for me?"

"Can we make it six sandwiches, sir? I'm a little hungry, too?" Gunny asked as he headed out the door.

"Sure, Gunny." Nate nodded and just as Gunny went to close the door Nate spoke up. "Hey Marvin!" Nate shouted and Gunny looked up at him with a curious smile. "Good plan."

1928 ZULU

DOLCE VITA BRIDAL BOUTIQUE

GEORGETOWN

"Anna, are you ready?" Beverly called from outside the fitting room. Anna Ross came out in her bridal gown. It was strapless and the bodice clung tightly to her form. She felt a little like a princess, like a princess who was wearing the Emperor's new clothes. Ever since Sergei had left she had felt so vulnerable and so alone. Reb wasn't there as much, he was doing exercises with the newbies in Pensacola this month. Mikey Roberts was working tirelessly at Norfolk to prove why he was one of the fastest promoted and overall best surface warfare officers in the fleet. This meant that she was spending most of her time with her fiancé, something most engaged women would enjoy but something that she dreaded. It was the little things about Miles that were starting to get on her nerves. The sleazy, all teeth, smile that made her roll her eyes and his generally possessive demeanour. But then again all couples had their quirks, didn't they?

She would talk to her sister in law, but then again, Nicole had this incredibly annoying way of making her marriage seem like something out of a fifties television show. She would talk to her sister Beverly, but the reverend would just launch into an hour long lecture about the institution and the values of commitment that would have her inducing illness just to change the discussion. Her brother Stephen wasn't one to talk about marriage and his wife was obsessive and prone to nagging, neither of which was a positive trait. Where was a girlfriend when she needed one?

"Hey Anna." Mac called as she walked over.

"Mac? What are you doing here?" Anna gave a silent hallelujah to the heavens. God had sent in the heavy reinforcements, a woman who had gone through this kind of thing before.

"I found my wedding dress in the attic and decided to take it out to be cleaned. I bought it here and they clean it here without charging me so it all works out for the best." Mac explained. "So, excited for the big day?"

"That's what has me worried, Mac. I'm five thousand miles away from a man who seems to be occupying my thoughts more then my fiancé." Anna sat with Mac on the bench in the fitting room. "Does that make me a bad person?"

"He's in a war zone, Anna, if you weren't thinking about him, I would probably be worried about you." Mac assured her friend. "Are you having doubts?"

"Ones the size of Texas." Anna answered emphatically. "I just, it's too much, Mac. I don't know what to do half the time. I had a dream last night where it wasn't a ring but a large lead weight attached to my finger. Mac, this isn't good."

"You're right, it isn't good. But it could also be cold feet and everyone in the history of marriage has gotten cold feet. I got it and Harriet dealt with it by making me sing every cheesy eighties monster ballad I could remember from high school. Harm got it and Keeter and Bax took turns slapping him." Mac and Anna shared a laugh.

"I remember Nate's wedding, everyone in dress uniform. Nate got cold feet, Harm slapped him and you had to take their swords away because you were worried that they were going to start duelling in the middle of the rectory." Anna and Mac shared another laugh.

"See, everyone gets cold feet, the difference is that cold feet goes away, serious doubts likely never will but that's a distinction you have to make for yourself." Mac put her hand on the younger woman's shoulder. If you really want to here a story about the difference between real doubts and cold feet, ask Harm why he doesn't fly through thunderstorm systems any more." Mac smiled at Anna before getting up off the bench and walked over to the counter to hand her dress to the cleaning lady. She waved at Anna before heading to the door.

Anna reached into her purse and pulled out a picture of Sergei, her, Reb and Mikey standing on the flight deck of the _Stennis_ together.

SAME TIME

THE OVAL OFFICE

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

"Sir, these are terrible." Gunny bit into the sandwich yet again. They were terrible, yet also terribly addictive presenting a most interesting paradox.

"Gunny, that's a road you don't want to go down with these two." Nicole warned the Chief of Staff. "I went to their tenth reunion with Nathan, these sandwiches were all the two of them ate all weekend."

"Granted, these sandwiches aren't quite as good as Ubecki's." Nate spoke with his mouth half full, a little bit of mustard peaking at the side.

"Nathan, don't speak with your mouth full, you're not five." Nicole shot her husband a small glare.

"Yes, dear." Nate hung his head.

"Ubecki's?" Gunny asked somewhat puzzled.

"Ubecki was this Hungarian Jew from Montreal who moved down to Princeton when his daughter got accepted to university. He ran this little deli off campus that served these sandwiches." Nikolai explained as he filled his shot glass. "We had lunch there after class everyday. Mostly cause we were always a couple bucks away from broke and Ubecki used to comp us these sandwiches."

"Hustling honest folks out of an honest buck, sir? You should be in Congress." Gunny joked and everyone had a laugh after they settled back down from lunch.

"Mr. President, we've got some bad news." Charlie and Morley came bursting through the door.

"Sorry, we're only accepting good news today." Nate looked at his Deputy Chief of Staff who stopped in his tracks. "Oh, for Christ's sake, Charlie, what is it?"

"Well, boss, there's a Russian ship that's been moving through the Bosporus for the last few hours." Charlie began to explain.

"The _Kursk_ is ahead of schedule then." The Russian President remarked with a bemused chuckle.

"Well, the Turkish Maritimes Authorities boarded it." Charlie continued.

"That's their right under the 1936 Montreux Convention, Charlie. It's their waters technically so they have the right to inspect vessels for sanitation purposes." Nate finished off his sandwich.

"Yes, sir, but these guys weren't actually Turkish Maritime Authorities, they were a Hamas cell who discovered that the ship was carrying armaments bound for the port at Haifa. One man lodged himself in the munitions hold and just as he was preparing to plant a bomb, the Russian crew shot him. The Captain of the _Kursk_ then ordered his crew to round up the rest of the terrorists, which they did. He took them out on to the deck of the ship and had them all executed with shots to the back of the head. He then had the bodies thrown off the bow of the ship and the corpses were summarily ground under the hull much to the dismay of the Turkish crowd witnessing the incident." Morley explained as he approached the President's desk.

"I would imagine." Nicole crossed her legs on the couch.

"Yeah, well, the caused a riot, the _real_ Turkish Maritime Authorities got involved, force the ship to halt and boarded it. The thing is, the gangplank that they used, the riotous crowd including members of the Turkish Army. Cooler heads did not prevail, the entire hundred and twenty man crew was summarily beaten to death or executed and the Turkish Prime Minister is on Al Jazeera right now claiming that the crowd was provoked by the acts of the Russian Captain and completely justified in their actions." Charlie picked up where Morley left off and watched as the President's face became a mixture of annoyed and pissed off.

"Alright, get President Petrov back to the airport and be discrete about it." Nate looked at the Russian Security Service agents who seemed thoroughly cowed by the Leader of the Free World. "Get the National Security Council into the Situation Room."

Charlie nodded as he and Morley headed for the door. What had started out a mild nuisance of a war that administrations had been dealing with for the last three decades was starting to escalate in new and scary directions. Nate turned toward Gunny. "Get the Gang of Eight and the Vice President, I want them in on this."

"Aye, aye, sir." Gunny answered out of habit. "I mean, yes, sir." Gunny nodded as he jogged through the door out of the oval. Nate turned and looked toward his wife. "The Free World awaits." He mused.

"Doesn't it always?" She gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "Just don't break it, would you?" He smiled widely as her hand slipped from his and she too left the oval.

"Alone again, naturally, huh Pete?" Nate looked at the head of his Secret Service detail.

"You've got me, sir." Pete joked.

"Thanks to a government order." Nate reminded him as they headed for the Sit Room.

2213 ZULU

OPNAVS OFFICE, THE PENTAGON

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"Rabb! Turner! Get off your respective asses! We're headed over to the White House." Admiral Barris shouted, just sticking his head into their outer offices and letting out a holler. Within seconds, Harm and Sturgis were out of their chairs and out of their offices to meet their CO. "Record time, good to know that the two of you react when called."

"You did that as a test?" Harm asked.

"Rule 1, Rabb, everything is a test." Barris answered as the three members of the Navy's upper echelon headed down the hall toward one set of doors. "There's a Sea King outside that's going to take us to the White House, the President must need us for something awful damn important. Rabb, why the hell weren't you at the White House this afternoon?"

"I had a few things to set in place here before I assumed my new office across the river, sir." Harm answered, Admiral Barris was a Navy salt who tended to be more of a hard ass then most of the Marines that Harm knew. He was also sixty-one, so he was nearing forced retirement age and he himself was a bit of a reputed elbow bender.

"What's happened, sir?" Harm looked over at his CO as they climbed into the helicopter.

"The Turks have boarded a Russian ship in the Bosporus." Sturgis answered for Admiral Barris.

"See, Rabb, Turner watches the damn ZNN we have patched into his office." Barris shot angrily.

"Sir, they're allowed to board ships travelling through the straits, they've been allowed to for 73 years." Harm answered trying not to direct his annoyance at Sturgis.

"They're not allowed to kill over a hundred Russian sailors in the process, Admiral." Barris dropped the other shoe and Harm felt like he'd been whacked upside the head with it.

"What were the Russians shipping through the straits that would make the Turks want to kill them for it?" Harm asked, looking from Sturgis to Admiral Barris.

"Arms and intelligence. The arms were for the Israeli war effort. So was the intelligence but the intelligence was in the form of detailed reports of everything that both the Russian Federation and the old Soviet Union had sold to Syria and Iran in the last thirty-odd years." Sturgis rifled through the brief and handed the necessary intelligence to Harm. "I got these from Naval Intel about fifteen minutes ago, I barely had time to go over them."

Harm rifled through the sheets scanning the important material. "This is a laundry list of Syrian military inventory, no wonder some people would be pissed off to see this end up in Israeli hands."

"You know Russian spies, too, they can imbed themselves pretty much anywhere and they don't stand out as much as our guys do. Thanks to the White House backing off Israeli arms sales for the duration of the war, the Israelis will have the Russian intelligence community and the Russian arms industry trading with them." Sturgis continued.

"The whole world's a vacuum, Sturgis. We step away for a second, the Russians step in. Although this is the first time in recent memory that they stepped in to _help_ our interests." Harm shrugged his shoulders. There really was a first time for everything.

0125 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE SITUATION ROOM

WASHINGTON, DC

"Do these people feel the need to have their kids fighting the fiftieth Intifada?" Nate let out a frustrated groan.

"I don't think we've finished the Second Intifada, boss." Mike Bradley commented from the other end of the table.

"Mike, you got a serious case of smart ass today, you know that?" Nate shot back and there were some round the table laughs. CIA Director Webb had found the last remark particularly funny. "Does _anybody_ and I mean _anybody_ see this feasibly ending well for either side?" Nate looked around the table and noticed that only the Air Force Chief of Staff seemed to have something to say. "Something on your mind, Bart?"

"Yeah, Mr. President, from an Israeli standpoint, this is exactly what they wanted. They got a free excuse to beat the shit out of Iran, dismantle the Iranian nuclear program and the Iranian Air Force. And they want to get Hezbollah, which they see as Syrian intervention in Lebanon, the hell out of Lebanon. What better way to do that then have them declare war on you then just napalm the bastards." Air Force Chief of Staff Bart Banner was known for being notoriously blunt.

"Not a lot of room for error, there." Nate rolled his eyes.

"So, the Israeli plan is to basically bomb their way into a more secure Middle East? Does anyone see a problem with that?" Gunny spun his coffee mug around nervously in his hands.

"Yeah, it tends to just piss people off." Tom Boone added his opinion to the fray.

"Three points for the DoD." Nate mused. "Alright, we've worked out an alternative fuel import strategy that's feasible. So, when OPEC threatens to jack up the price, I can look them right in the eye and tell them to shove it up their collective asses."

"Or we can just threaten them with it." Danny Proper intervened, still starting pensively down at the floor with one hand on his chin.

"What was that, Danny?" Nate stopped pacing for a second and looked at his Treasury Secretary.

"Think about it, sir, American oil companies make an insane amount of money for the OPEC countries. If we can transfer most of our oil importing away from them to Russia, the North Sea and Canada, their cash flow will dry up and Americans will still be getting cheaper oil." Danny explained. "We might even be able to use it to low ball them into giving us lower prices."

The sudden logic of it all seemed to dawn on everyone. "Someone give that man a kiss on the forehead!" Nate demanded, the smile slowly returning. "Alright, that solves that problem. Now, let's turn to what seems to be an ever widening crisis." Nate heard a few familiar words come from one of the televisions and stopped for a second. "Gunny, turn up that TV." Nate pointed to on along the wall. Gunny adjusted the volume and Nate sat on the edge of the conference room table listening to the President of Iran hold a press conference on Al-Jazeera.

"What's he saying, Mr. President?" AJ Chegwidden looked up at his boss and brother in law whose face had just taken on a grave expression again. Nate raised his index finger to indicate that he required a minute. Once the press conference was over, Nate turned back to face the group.

"His exact words were; 'in alliance with our brothers in Turkey we take issue and opposition to any nation which provides arms and comfort to the Zionist conquerors such as Russia has done this day.' Sounds like a declaration to me." Nate looked down the table at Fitzy, AJ and Tom. "What do you guys think?"

"Sounded like some tough talk, Mr. President. But they got pummelled by the Israeli Air Command, they're just trying to scare the Russians off they have no intention of going to war with them." AJ suggested. "It doesn't make sense; they'd be swinging well above their weight class."

"That's the only way to knock down a giant, Mr. Secretary." Fitzy answered.

"Sorry, we're late." Admiral Barris explained as the OpNavs office came walking into the Sit Room.

"No problem, it's not as if this is a major crisis or anything." Gunny shot sarcastically.

"Easy, Gunny." Nate smiled as the Marine was about to tear into the Admiral.

"My apologies, Mr. President." The CNO was clearly unused to a President in such a bad mood. Then again, like most of the flag officers in the Navy and Marine Corps and even the Army, he had a vivid recollection of Nate's father and the similarities were starting to become very eerie.

"Admiral Rabb, I have only one question for you. The Turkish government condones the actions of rioting Turkish soldiers who kill more then a hundred Russian sailors, is it an act of war?" Nate looked up at Harm.

"Without a doubt, sir." Harm answered.

"Andrea," Nate shifted his focus to his Secretary of State, "talk to the EU, calm them the hell down. Tom," Nate looked down the table at Tom Boone, "get on the phone with the NATO Secretary General, talk him down off whatever ledge he's threatening to leap from. Everyone else, I suggest you get an early night tonight because she's shaping up to be a long day tomorrow."

With that, the room slowly emptied, leaving Nate and Gunny sitting at the table. "Well, Marvin, any more good plans?" Nate looked up at his Chief of Staff.

"Sleep, sir?" Gunny chanced.


	19. The Best Laid Plans

_Guest Starring: Jeremy Irons as British Prime Minister Richard Cunningham_

"Mr. Rabb, your orders have been cut, you're heading home four weeks early." The Skipper handed Sergei a copy of his travel orders. "Let me say in a personal aside, Lieutenant, that you've got the most promise of any chopper pilot I've ever had serving on this LHD and any time you want to fly with the Air Wing again, you just pick up the phone."

"You got it, Skipper." Sergei fired off a salute at the Captain who returned it in kind.

"You're a hell of a good officer, kid." The Captain said as Sergei headed off the bridge. Sergei headed through the inner part of the _Bataan_ toward his quarters. Half of him was elated to be going home; he'd just gotten an email from Johnny-Reb who had just finished his turn as an instructor at Pensacola. He'd also got one from Mikey Roberts who was rambling endlessly about this girl that he'd met. Sergei reached into his pocket and produced a picture from a few years back. It was of him, Johnny, Mikey and Anna on the flight deck of the _Stennis_. He hadn't spoken to her except to RSVP via email to the wedding invitation that she had sent. There was another half of him, the half that hated leaving Tamila back here on the _Bataan_ in a war zone. With the Russians and the Turks involved, this thing had escalated ten-fold. Part of him wished he was clever enough to smuggle her off the ship with him but he figured that someone would probably notice somewhere along the route.

He got to his quarters where he found the Mossad Agent of his dreams getting out of the shower. "I have great news!" They both said simultaneously. "You go first." Still on the same wavelength. "After you." Sergei finally worked in.

"I was just talking to my control agent in Tel Aviv. He said that since we need a need a new liaison officer with our office at the Embassy in Washington, I could take the post." She smiled at him.

"That's great news!" He was smiling from ear to ear.

"What's your news?" She encouraged him.

"Oh, I got travel orders to get out of here on today's COD. I hop to Naples then I get on a non stop to Washington." Sergei was so excited her felt every nerve ending in his back tingle in anticipation.

"Looks like we've got the same orders then." She moved into his arms and gave him a quick kiss.

"There's nothing on under this towel." Sergei observed aloud.

"Gee, you catch on quick, how'd you get so smart?" Tamila teased.

"The Marine Corps issued me twice the brains by mistake?" Sergei ventured a guess.

1516 ZULU

THE WEST WING

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

"What kind of mood is the boss in today?" Charlie asked as he came walking out of his office.

"Bad." Gunny shook his head. "Very bad. Partly because he's horse."

"He's horse? How the hell did that happen?" Stacy gathered with them in the bullpen.

"He was shouting at the UN Secretary General until 0200 last night. And I mean shouting, not politely having an exchange of ideas. I mean the two most powerful men in the world spent three hours last night shouting at each other." Gunny nodded sarcastically. "So, this morning he's writing notes in order to communicate."

"Let's not let have the press ask him any questions today." Morley too joined in the conversation. "I don't think we want tomorrow morning's Washington Post to read 'Has American Lost It's Voice?' Or whatever horseshit the Post would come up with to poke fun at this."

"Any idea what he's got planned? After he and the Secretary came up with that plan to browbeat OPEC, he seems to be hell bent on coming up with a way to find an end to this war." Stacy looked over at Gunny.

"The man is an open book to only one person." Gunny answered as he raised his coffee mug.

"You know, boss, I think after four months, I'm finally getting used to your coffee." Stacy gave a bemused chuckle as she raised the coffee cup to her lips.

"I don't know if I ever will." Charlie joked. "Any ideas on how the President's going to solve this war?"

"No idea." Gunny paused. "I know he doesn't think the UN can do it and I know he's not going to trust Europe to help."

"Which gives us exactly no help in trying to solve this thing. We've got the G8 summit in three months. Any chance one of them will help?" Morley looked over at Charlie.

"Nope. The British and the French have no credibility with Muslim countries. Russia's involved in the conflict. The Germans and Canadians want to stay the hell out. The Italians have been funnelling weapons to Israel through Greece and Cyprus. That leaves us and the Japanese." Charlie rolled his eyes. "And getting any words out of the Japanese Foreign Minister outside of his expression of 'grave concern' at the current situation is a lot like pulling teeth without Novocaine."

"Should we let Foggy Bottom handle this?" Gunny looked at his staff.

"Morley, you worked at the State Department, what do you think is going on over there right now?" Stacy decided it was best to head this topic off at the pass.

"War in the State Department is a lot like a fox in the henhouse." Morley answered.

"What do you mean?" Gunny asked, brow thoroughly furrowed.

"Basically, everyone's gone insane and there are feathers flying all over the place. It takes a hard ass to run the State Department. Acheson, Marshall, Kissinger and Rusk were all ball busters that could keep a rein on the place when the shit hit the fan. That's why they're remembered for being good at their job." Morley seemed a little annoyed.

"Dude, you need more of the boss's coffee and you need to chill out." Charlie laughed. Gunny felt a vibration at his hip and picked up the beeper. "What's going on boss?" Charlie peeked over his coffee mug at Gunny.

"The President has regained his voice and I'm being summoned." Gunny bid goodbye to the gang and dashed off to the oval.

1234 ZULU

AIR FRANCE 109

SOMEWHERE OVER GREAT BRITAIN

"First class? I never get bumped to First Class!" Sergei was kind of bug eyed as he looked around at all the comforts and amenities provided to him by this new opportunity.

"How often do you travel with a LEO?" Tamila asked.

"I thought you were a Sagittarius? Sergei replied.

"Stands for Law Enforcement Officer, Sergei." Tamila eyed him humorously. Her years in Mossad had sharpened her cynicism. Now, whenever she got on a plane, her eyes instinctively searched out the young men of Arab descent and her hand was never more then a reflex action away from her Sig Sauer. She carried two weapons. Her Sig Sauer was carried in a service holster but her Mossad issue Jericho941 was strapped to the inside of her upper thigh.

"I heard that people do this Mile High thing in planes." Sergei whispered in her ear and she had to laugh. He was in the habit of asking, which was slightly strange but it also kind of made her feel like she was in control, which was alright anyway, because he was certainly in control the second clothes started hitting the floor. "How does it work anyway?" She smiled rather small and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"I head for the bathrooms; you watch to see which one I go in. Then you wait a couple of minutes and join me." She explained in a hushed tone. After checking the aisles she got up and headed for the bathrooms near the back of the first class cabin. Sergei sat in his chair idly tapping his fingers on the arm rests. He loosened up his neck and after checking his watch for the thirtieth time in the last three minutes, he decided to get up from his seat and head for the back of the cabin. He looked around to see if any one noticed his getting up before he headed into the washroom. "Glad to see you made it, Marine." She took him by the collar and pulled him in for a kiss.

Outside the two of them heard a pair; maybe three loud voices begin shouting. It wasn't a language Sergei knew, but they didn't sound happy. Tamila clamped a hand down on his mouth to prevent him from speaking. She listened to them speak for a few more seconds before dropping her hand. "Al Qaeda?" Sergei asked very quietly.

"Hamas." Tamila answered. "They won't crash the plane; they'll just try to blow it up." She reached down between her legs and pulled the pistol out of its holster. "You know how to fire this thing?"

"I _am_ a Marine." Sergei responded, rolling his eyes at this glimmer of condescension on her part. The two of them felt the door rattle behind them and Tamila drew her Sig Sauer. A man forced the door open but Tamila's pistol was up in a flash and the barrel was pressed right between his eyes.

"May God, have mercy on you," she pulled back the hammer on the gun, "because I won't." She pulled the trigger and ended the man's life, consequently sending half of his brain splattering against the wall on the other side of the cabin. Sergei took point on the way out the door. He walked into the coach cabin with Tamila and checked for the rest of the cell. There wouldn't be more then four men involved in one plane hijacking and they'd already killed one. Just as they thought they'd cleared the coach cabin, one of the men stood up with the rusty edge of a key-hole saw pressed against the throat of a stewardess.

"You drop your guns or she dies!" He shouted in Arabic.

"You got the shot?" Sergei asked Tamila.

"I've got it." She answered. Sergei went to lower his gun which drew the man's attention long enough for Tamila to pull the trigger and lodge a bullet right in the man's eye. The panic seemed to subside momentarily in the cabin. "Federal Agent!" Tamila announced to the people. She figured adding the word 'Israeli' in light of current events would likely only add to the tension rather then relieve it.

"United States Marine Corps!" Sergei announced, holding out his military ID. "Did anyone here see any more men come back here?" He asked to the group of passengers from both coach and First Class who had been forced back into this cabin.

"Pilot and co-pilot." Tamila told Sergei and the two of them headed up the aisle toward the cockpit. Both of them had their weapons at the ready as they walked up the aisle. They got to the door of the cockpit and Tamila reached down to try the door. "It's locked." She whispered.

"Not everything can be easy." He whispered. He reared back and heaved forward with a mighty kick on the door. It loosened a little but it didn't open. He leaned back and forced his foot down on the door causing it to loosen some more. He reared back one last time and with a mighty cry of "OOHRAH!" He broke the door wide open but within seconds he felt this sharp pain just below his collar bone that began to run all the way down the inside of his arms to his elbow. Then he heard a gunshot. He looked down only to realize that before Tamila had shot the terrorist, Sergei had been sliced with a box cutter. The wound was about fourteen inches long and a little less then an inch deep. He hadn't severed anything serious; he'd just caused the Marine to bleed like bitch. Within seconds, Sergei's sleeve was half saturated but his adrenals were working over time and his anger was rapidly spiralling out of control.

With his good arm, Sergei reach down and hauled the remaining Hamas terrorist out of the chair and dragged him out to the floor of the cockpit, he unceremoniously threw the man to the floor. The terrorist was on all fours. "Face down!" Sergei demanded and the bastard snarled at him, the son of a bitch actually fucking snarled at him! Sergei raised his gun and put one bullet in man's shoulder. "Face down!" He demanded and the terrorist abstained again. Sergei need only look at the bodies of the pilot and co-pilot to justify to himself what he was about to do. The pilot's throat had been slit and the co-pilot had been sliced open from stem to sternum. Sergei knelt next to the terrorist. "This gun carries fourteen shots and I've got plenty of time and places wherein I can shoot you and not kill you so, Face down!" Sergei demanded and this time the terrorist did as he was told. He laid flat on the carpet his nose and face pointed straight down. Sergei stood up and didn't even stop to think. He raised his foot into the air and brought it down with all possible force on the back of the man's head, caving in his skull and creating a blood splatter effect similar to an over-filled toaster strudel.

He handed Tamila his gun as he walked over to the controls. He picked up the headset and placed it on his head. "Are you sure you can fly?" She asked. "You'll only aggravate it, you'll bleed more."

"I'm fine." Was his cold reply. He opened the comm. channel. "This is Air France 109, United States Marine Corps at the controls."

"Heathrow tower here, Air France 109. United States Marine Corps? What in blazes happened up there?" The Air traffic controller asked.

"There was an attempted hijacking." Sergei answered. "The terrorists are all dead, so are the pilot and co-pilot."

"Oh Good Lord," the man replied, "have you any flight experience, Marine?"

"I have a few hours in an F/A-18 Hornet. I'm a chopper pilot mostly. Any chance you could talk me through this? How far out are we?" Sergei asked.

"You're about twenty minutes out but you're going to have to bring her back around." The controller said. Sergei, figured that the stick on this thing couldn't be too dissimilar from a Hornet and he gently eased it back around in a circle to the right.

"Am I on the flight path now?" Sergei asked, the adrenaline rush was beginning to wear off.

"You're a couple of degrees to the right, but we'll correct that once you get a little closer. You haven't a name by any chance have you, 109?" The controller asked.

"First Lieutenant Sergei Rabb." Sergei answered.

"Alright, Lieutenant, you have to begin your descent now. From what my supervisor tells me, the controls for that manoeuvre should be similar to a fighter jet." The controller began to coach. "Now, I want you to drop the landing gear, son and once you've dropped it and it's locked into place a little light will show up telling you that it's locked into place." Sergei found the control for the landing gear and lowered it.

"It's down." He said, having seen the lights come on.

"That's a good chap." The controller was a little on edge himself. "We've sent up a coupled of Harriers to help you a long, they'll rendezvous with you when you're about five minutes out. Alright, as you descend, you're going to have to decrease power not increase like you would with a carrier landing, Lieutenant, do you understand. You've got plenty of runway, no need to try and hit a certain wire."

"Understood." Sergei nodded, he was beginning to feel a little light headed from the blood loss.

"Now, there's a good chap, Lieutenant, keep bringing her down, steady as she goes." The controller coached with a mighty gulp. "Alright now, you're about five minutes out, can you see the tower, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, I can." Sergei affirmed.

"Jolly good, you're just a little bit high, so bring her down slowly now as you get near the runway and ease up on the throttle." The controller was beginning to hyperventilate slightly. Sergei adjusted his power and altitude accordingly.

"Am I on the flight path?" He asked.

"Yes, and doing quite well for a rookie." The controller was trying to be encouraging. "Alright, now, you're on path and you're low so ease all the way back off the power and you'll feel a skid as the wheels make contact with the runway, Lieutenant Rabb." Sergei pulled back off the power and just as the controller said, he felt the wheels skid against the runway and the plane was gradually beginning to slow down. The large passenger jet passed one set of emergency crews before coming to a complete halt. "Jolly well done, Lieutenant, good show." The controller said. "Lieutenant?"

"He was cut in the attack." Tamila called in. "He's bleeding rather severely, get paramedics up here quick!"

"Righto!" The controller had one of his men give the radio dispatch to the EMTs already out on the runway. He pulled the headset off and sat down in his chair. Nigel Chadwick had been in this job for twenty years and for the first time, he looked toward the heavens and prayed to God that he would spare the life of the brave young Marine Lieutenant who had saved everyone onboard Air France Flight 109.

SAME TIME

THE OVAL OFFICE

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

"You rang, Mr. President." Gunny came walking through the door into the oval.

"I've got a peace plan, Gunny." Nate clapped his hands together. "I'm going to need the help of the State Department for the first few stages of this one though."

"Well, sir, Morley says that…" Gunny began but Nate held up a hand to stop him.

"I know, I know, absolute chaos and feathers flying, I've heard the joke." Nate continued. "Fine, if we can't use the State Department, it's going to have to be you and me on this one. I intend to get the leaders from these countries to a summit, I'd prefer to have it here at Camp David but I see the Iranians having a problem with that. So, I get the feeling that we're going to have to hold this thing in a Muslim country. We've got a few options, I think that personally our best option is Istanbul. The thing is, the Israelis will probably never go for it, unless both us and the Russians lean on them. That'll be my job. Yours is to get Turkey, Syria and Egypt on board."

"Why Egypt, sir?" Gunny asked.

"Because the Iranians and the Syrians aren't going to accept us as moderators, they'll think we're working in Israel and Russia's best interests." Nate cracked his knuckles nervously. "We need an Arab moderator as well and I've dealt with the Egyptian President before. He's a very intelligent man, he's not Sadat, but he's incredibly intelligent nonetheless."

"So, I'll talk to them, I'm guessing that you'll talk to the Russians and the Israelis, sir?" Gunny inquired of his boss.

"Yeah, and I'll talk to Tom." Nate was referring to the Iranian diplomatic contact that floated around Washington so that Tehran had someone they could negotiate through without having formal diplomatic relations with Washington.

"Bob, sir." Gunny corrected the President.

"Bob? What happened to Tom?" Nate asked.

"Stroke." Gunny answered. "Bob's the new Tom.

"Ah, well, just make sure he's here by the time that we're done with the phone calls." Nate went to get behind the desk again when Charlie came bursting through the door. "He tends to make a habit of that." Nate mused to Gunny.

"Sir, a plane's been hijacked!" Charlie gasped out as he tried to catch his breath.

"What? Where?" Nate was suddenly in a panic.

"Air France flight 109, it was over the United Kingdom, it left Naples this morning." Charlie explained. "The hijackers were overpowered. Seems there was armed personnel on board that they didn't know about."

"How do you know all this?" Gunny turned his head to face his Deputy.

"Someone at Heathrow tower leaked it to the ZNN International." Charlie had sufficiently caught his breath. "The guy who overpowered the hijackers was a Marine?"

"A Royal Marine?" Gunny asked.

"A United States Marine, a chopper pilot with enough hours behind the stick of a Hornet that the Heathrow tower was able to give him instructions on how to land the plane." Charlie walked over toward the President's office. "He was wounded when he tried to take back the cockpit. His arm was sliced wide open, he lost a lot of blood."

"My God, is he okay?" Nate asked, suddenly not trusting his knees to hold him straight up.

"They don't know, they say it's too early to tell. I believe it was something about his blood pressure being dangerously low." Charlie was standing with Gunny and Nate now. "Mr. President there's just one more thing."

"What, Charlie?" Nate asked.

"The Marine's name was Sergei Rabb." Charlie gave it to him straight. He watched his boss lock down any possible emotional response.

"Gunny, forget my previous orders. Call Harm, tell him what happened, tell him to meet me at Andrews, we're going to London. Charlie, get my sister Anna on the phone give her the same advice. Then, I want you to call the Washington Navy Yard, there's a Lieutenant by the name of Mike Roberts who's doing some grunt work there for the CNO today, get him on the plane as well. Gunny, once you're done with Harm, call NAS Pensacola from the plane. Talk to Captain John Ricker and tell him that I'm ordering him to get his ass to Miami and get on a plane to London." Nate paused. "I'll go get the Family and the staff for the trip."

With that, the three men broke apart and went to work for an emergency trip.

2334 ZULU

HILLINGDON HOSPITAL

LONDON, ENGLAND

The White House staff made sure that a motorcade was set up by the time that they landed. Secret Service had been on the phone coordinating with Scotland Yard and MI6 to set up security for the trip Air Force One was wheels up in thirty-two minutes, record time for any President. The Secret Service codename for Nate was 'CROSSHAIR' but in jest, a few of the Agents would joke with Gunny and Charlie that they ought to call him 'MULE' both as a reference to his stubbornness and his political party.

By the time that the motorcade got to Hillingdon Hospital, the British paparazzi was out in full force. As the White House staff walked to the Hospital doors with both the Rabb and Ross families, a cameraman whacked Charlie in the forehead. The Deputy Chief of Staff's hand immediately went up to where he had been struck. Stacy pulled him aside to check out the bruise while Gunny, being the Marine, immediately grabbed the cameraman. As a scuffle was about to break out, Nate turned and headed back to where his Chief of Staff had the cameraman by his trench-coat. "Hey!" Nate intervened. "What happened, Gunny?"

"This idiot whacked Charlie with his camera." Gunny had his fist reeled back.

"It was an accident." The cameraman protested.

"Did you apologize?" Nate asked, his stoic Marine exterior rising to the surface.

"No, well I don't think I rightly should, all things being equal, the poor bloke should have had his wits about him." The cameraman covered.

"Gunny?" Nate looked at his Chief of Staff.

"Yes, sir?" Gunny gave the President a nod without looking at him.

"Now you can hit him." Nate gave the cameraman a sarcastic grin before heading back toward the front doors of the hospital. The large group of people practically filled the emergency room.

"We're here for Sergei Rabb." Harm told the nurse at the admitting desk.

"You're not the only one, love, trust me." She said, still looking down at her day planner. She then looked up and saw the crowd of thirty people. "You do realize, I can't let you all in to see him right now? I mean, the poor lad's still in critical condition, he's just come out of emergency surgery."

"I believe I can shed some light on this." Nate stepped up next to Harm and Mac at the admitting desk. "See, these two are the only blood relatives that Lieutenant Rabb has left on the entire planet, nurse. The people behind them are his closest friends and I'm…"

"Oh, I know who you are, sir, I for sure wasn't born in a cave just yesterday." The Nurse snapped at him. "Now, I suppose, that I may be able to allow the doctor to admit the family and the friends. But, Mr. President, you will only be able to go in once some of the others have left."

"That works." Harm nodded and chuckled. "Looks like you're stuck on the outside looking in." Harm shook Nate's hand to thank him for his help.

"Hell, I got all the important people into the room, who cares if it's just little old me sitting on the outside looking in?" Nate chuckled and shook Harm's hand. "Give him my best would you?"

"I'll let you in when he wakes up, you can tell him personally." Harm nodded at his friend before following the nurse up toward Sergei's room. The Rabbs all headed up the elevator with the nurse, Mikey and Anna. Last anyone heard from Johnny Reb, he was in Miami-Dade International Airport about to board his plane. He was probably somewhere off the coast of Ireland right now. The White House staff decided to take the stairs and occupy the waiting room outside of Sergei's hospital room.

"Is anyone slightly worried that we left Morley and the Vice President in charge of the store back home?" Charlie asked, still rubbing his forehead where a bruise was now starting to form.

"Nah, they have to call me before they do anything big and I run it by the boss anyway." Gunny answered and the staff laughed as they entered the stairwell.

Back up on the third floor, the nurse led everyone off the elevator toward Sergei's room. Harm walked with a great determination toward the room, often times almost passing the nurse who was supposed to be leading them. She took them right to the door of the room and Harm was the first one through. He saw a young dark-haired woman sitting by Sergei's bedside holding his hand. "Can I help you, Miss?" Harm inquired as he and Mac walked into the room.

"Oh, I'm, well I suppose I'm Sergei's girlfriend." The two of them had never put specific labels on anything but if their activities were anything to go by, then it seemed a truthful statement.

"I bet there's a really good story attached to that title." Mac mused as she stepped up next to her husband.

"A little long, but I suppose I could try explaining it." She rubbed her eyes.

"Well, judging by your accent, you're Israeli." Mac started. "Which in and of itself creates a few scenarios."

"I was an intelligence attaché on the _Bataan_. Your brother needed someone with geographical knowledge of the area to backseat for him so the skipper assigned me." She started to explain. She'd never felt this nervous before. "Shortage of quarters in female officer country meant that I had to bunk with someone and the CAG assigned me to bunk with Sergei."

"You know, when they assign you to bunk with someone, you're not normally sharing the same rack." Mikey Roberts joked and caught glares from Mac and Anna.

"Yeah, well, we shared close quarters for long enough that the little sparks became a flame." Tamila found that little metaphor to be the best way of explaining things. "I was on the plane with him. He had orders back to Washington, I had orders for our embassy in Washington. As a LEO, I was able to carry my firearms aboard the plane. When they took over the plane, I handed him my Jericho and the two of us proceeded to just begin dispatching them. We killed all four of them, but not before one of them was able to slice Sergei open. He wasn't bleeding too bad initially, he was even able to land the plane here at Heathrow. The doctors said that the strain from landing the plane caused him to rupture an artery. He was bleeding pretty badly by the time that they got him in here."

"What did the doctor say?" Harm asked, taking the seat at the other side of Sergei's bed.

"As I recall, I said if his blood pressure stabilizes by morning and provided there is no post-operative infection in the wound, he should be out of the woods." The doctor walked into the room. "Dr. Reginald Mallard." The doc introduced himself.

"Vice Admiral Harmon Rabb." Harm stood and introduced himself to the doctor.

"A Naval Admiral and a Marine Lieutenant as brothers? Most extraordinary circumstances. It reminds me of a case I once had in Italy, yes, a young Marine was forced to commandeer a gondola after the gondolier had a stroke and fell into one of the canals…" Something very curious was happening, Harm had the strangest sense of déjà vu from a case on of his JAGs had worked with NCIS on back in February.

"Doctor, any chance you're related to a Doctor Donald Mallard?" Harm chanced in an attempt to cut off the doctor's story.

"Donald Mallard? I suppose it's possible, I couldn't tell you rightly." The Doctor walked over to the monitors and checked Sergei's SATS. "He's not gone up too much in the last hour."

"Is that bad?" Harm asked.

"No, not necessarily, it's still getting back to normal, just slower then usual. This could indicate that there's an infection coming on." The Doctor continued looking up at the screen.

"So, he has an infection?" Harm asked, slightly unnerved.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I must have trailed off there." Dr. Mallard, being good natured turned around and smiled. "It could also mean that he lost quite a bit more blood then we originally anticipated and we haven't transfused enough."

"Thank you, doctor." Harm and Mac nodded at Doctor Mallard who cheerfully went on his way.

Out in the hallway, Nate was looking out a window over a district of London. "It never ceases to amaze me how foreigners will marvel at the city, just to look at the distant glimmer of houselights." Nate looked to his left to find British Prime Minister Richard Cunningham standing next to him.

"Making fun of me, Dick?" Nate asked, returning his eyes to the window.

"Not at all." Cunningham laughed. "I just got in from a late House of Commons session which was immediately followed by a late meeting with Her Majesty."

"How is the old girl?" Nate asked with a humorous smile.

"The _Queen_," Cunningham stressed, "is doing perfectly fine, thank you. I'll convey your regards to her."

"Loosen up, Dick, or people might get the impression that you British conservatives don't laugh and what will that do for Monty Python reruns in New York City?" Nate joked and found himself looking at a rather stone-faced British PM. "You're right, bad joke."

"We're going to give him a medal." Prime Minister Cunningham started; he was obviously referring to Sergei. "Not just any medal. He'll be the first American in ninety years to be awarded the Victoria Cross."

"That's awful damn nice of you, Mr. Prime Minister. Truth be told, I don't know what good it'll be to Lieutenant Rabb if he doesn't recover." Nate was a little annoyed. "As far as I know, Lieutenant Rabb is a shoe in for the Navy Cross back home. Though I doubt, when this becomes public knowledge in the States, that Congress will object to awarding him the Medal of Honour."

"Don't you sometimes wish that you served in the legislature, so that you could ensure these things yourself?" Cunningham turned away from the window and leaned his back against it.

"As it is, I can barely deal with Senators on a part time basis. If I had to deal with them everyday, I can guarantee that my foot would end up in someone's ass." Nate laughed.

"I was informed by my aide of your proposed solution to the crisis in West Asia." Cunningham began.

"The rest of the world calls it the Middle East, Dick." Nate added.

"An abomination of the English language I assure you. Something simply cannot be Middle _and_ East, it's a contradiction." Cunningham paused. "That is perhaps another matter for another time. A conference, Nathan, have you lost your mind? We tried that once, or have you conveniently forgotten 1919?"

"No, Dick, I haven't forgotten and I consider it comforting to know that if I had, you would be right there to remind me." Nate shot sarcastically. "There's one big difference. In 1919, we were dividing the region up as we saw fit. Now, we're just calling one giant ceasefire. We've got an Arab country on board to help us mediate so that everyone's interests are equally represented."

"And you're hoping to achieve what? 'Peace in our time', perhaps?" Cunningham pressed.

"You're comparing _me_ to Chamberlain? Ease up there, Dick, don't start with me." Nate wasn't in the mood to get into it with the PM right now.

"You pulled away from Israel and now you're talking about seriously speaking with the Iranians? You're doing exactly what Chamberlain did, you're appeasing!" Cunningham's tone was accusatory. "This may not be Versailles but it may well be Munich."

"I didn't hear you or Serento or LeRocque coming up with any better ideas so you bet your stuffy British ass I decided to do something. You all talk a big game," Nate got right in the Prime Minister's face, "you want to prove you're more then a seat decoration in the House of Commons, then do something!" With that the President headed down the hallway toward his Chief of Staff. There were never enough hours in the day.


	20. The Best Laid Plans Pt 2

"I hate London newspapers!" Charlie shouted at the top of his lungs as he marched around in the hotel room. The thing about last minute trips, is that getting reservations to accommodate the President's staff gets a little tough. Stacy had one of the beds in the hotel room, hence forcing Gunny and Charlie to share the other one.

"Oh, it's going to be one of _those_ days is it?" Gunny mused as he made the coffee using the hotel provided coffee maker on the counter.

"What days?" Stacy asked as she sat up in bed.

"I _hate_ London newspapers!" Charlie's voice could be heard out in the hallway now.

"Ah, one of those days where we're pretty sure that working for the President has snapped what's left of Charlie's fragile psyche." Stacy got up out of bed.

"I _hate_ London newspapers!" The shouts grew even louder.

"It's your turn to go get him." Gunny stated as he poured two cups of coffee. He noticed the attractive, blonde thirty-something Press Secretary in her Wellesley College t-shirt and pink panty/shorts.

"No, you went and got him last time, I went and got him the time before that." She pointed out. "It's Morley's turn and he's not here." They could hear the sound of a newspaper being torn out in the hallway. "Flip you for it?"

"You have a coin…in …those?" Gunny was gawking down at the panty/short things she was wearing. "What are those exactly?"

"None of your business." She laughed light-heartedly. "Do you have a coin?"

"Yeah." Gunny plunged a hand down into his pocket and came out with a coin. He flicked the coin in the air. "Call it." He declared.

"Tails." She called as the coin fell and landed in the middle of his palm. "I win, you go and get him."

"I _really hate_ London newspapers!" Charlie shouted at the top of his lungs. Gunny walked to the door and opened it wide.

"Charlie!" Gunny shouted just as the Deputy Chief of Staff was walking past the hotel room door. "Calm down or I'll break your wrists!"

"Sorry, Gunny." Charlie stopped in his tracks. "But you gotta read this." Charlie handed him the newspaper. Gunny looked it over and started laughing.

"What is it?" Stacy walked over holding the coffee mug between her hands.

"White House Romance!" Gunny read aloud. "Charlie, you got whacked with a camera, Stacy tends to your head to make sure that you don't have a concussion and by the next morning, the London papers have you sleeping together." Gunny was laughing boisterously.

"What?!" Stacy spit her coffee out of surprise and it ended up all over Charlie. Charlie wiped his face off with his sleeve. "I'm sorry, I just, never thought they'd come to that conclusion."

"You know, there are some days I wonder how a Deputy from New Mexico can order around you three over educated people. And then you all have a day like today and I don't wonder anymore." Gunny headed toward the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower." He announced. "And Charlie?"

"Yeah, Gunny?" Charlie looked up from his coffee-stained shirt.

"Don't stare at whatever kind of underwear it is that Stacy's wearing, it's apparently none of our business." Gunny closed the door to the bathroom.

0728 ZULU

HILLINGDON HOSPITAL

LONDON, ENGLAND

Anna Ross gave a roundhouse kick to the vending machine in an attempt to get a Coke. She picked up the Coke and flicked up the tab. "So how long have you known Sergei?" She felt the annoying almost sandpaper like voice of Tamila Rosenbaum.

"Seven years." Anna answered. "I was the one who helped him meet the English qualification for the Academy. I was the first person to take him up in a Hornet. Of course, I never would have known the thrill of flying if it wasn't for him so I guess it's a two way street." She finally turned to face the other woman. "Are you in love with him?"

"I don't know, are you?" Tamila replied.

"That's a great non answer, you've got a future in politics." Anna snapped at her. "Is Mikey in with him now?"

"Has been for the last few hours." Tamila nodded. "So you're the friend who's getting married."

"Not any more." Anna answered as she headed for the room.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Did something happen?" Tamila was at least, it seemed, trying to make an effort.

"No offence, but we're not close, I don't foresee us becoming close in the immediate future and at this moment the only reason I find myself moderately able to tolerate your existence in proximity to me is because the man who has been my best friend for the last seven years is now lying in a hospital bed." Anna rifled off, her body running on a high amount of adrenaline caused by a low amount of sleep. "And before you ask, no I don't have a rational explanation for why I've taken such an intense dislike for you. I just have and that will have to suffice for now."

The two women just stood their like proud lionesses attempting to mark their domain. On one hand there was the trained Mossad agent and on the other, the pissed off Marine. "I'd back down, Anna, she's got a longer reach then you do." Johnny-Reb suddenly made his presence known. "She's also a trained killer."

"So am I." Anna replied in a challenge to Tamila more then an answer to Reb's question.

"Yeah, with Aim-9s, Aim-7s and AMRAAM missiles. She could kick your ass, hell, she could kick my ass without blinking or thinking twice or likely without even standing up." Johnny slowly walked over so that he was within whisper range. "She's Mossad, Anna."

Both women crossed their arms and looked up at Johnny as if expecting an answer as to how he knew that. "What? Are you trying to tell me that I am the only person that Sergei emailed during his whole time on the _Bataan?_ I'm guessing he's right through there?" Johnny pointed to the door and Anna nodded. "Hey, kiddo, I'll have a talk with you a little later alright?"

"Yeah." She nodded and watched as Johnny headed through the door into Sergei's room.

"I think we should put our petty differences aside and just hope for the best for Sergei for the time being, you know?" Tamila suggested and Anna nodded.

0711 ZULU

HILLINGDON HILTON

LONDON, ENGLAND

Gunny knocked on the door and heard 'Come in!' shouted in the President's voice. He pushed the door open and saw the President already dressed in his suit, stuffing the last piece of a blueberry waffle into his face. "So, I heard an interesting rumour this morning that my Deputy Chief of Staff and my Press Secretary are sleeping together." Nate was fixing his tie.

"I heard that too, sir." Gunny laughed as he heard the running water in the bathroom turn off. The First Lady came walking out of the bathroom in a towel and she shrieked being slightly startled by having someone other then her husband in hotel room. "Good morning, Madam First Lady."

'Eyes front, Gunny." Nate encouraged as he did the knot in his tie.

"Yes, sir." Gunny nodded. "Maybe we should take this into the hallway, sir."

"Always thinking, Gunny." Nate gave Gunny a pat on the back and the two men walked out into the hallway.

"Where's Harriet? Or did the First Lady leave her Chief of Staff back in Washington?" Gunny asked looking around.

"The First Lady is very particular about details so when she found out we were headed to London; she had Harriet book a room for the First Family and one for herself." Nate explained as they stood out in the hallway.

"And we forgot to book one for ourselves, ingenious." Gunny was overly sarcastic.

"Yeah, well you guys were doing something more important keeping in mind that there _is_ a war going on in the Middle East right now. By the way, are Charlie and Stacy sleeping together or not? You know the Press is going to want to hear about this, maybe Howard Stern too, think I should put a call into the New York City?" Nate was beginning to talk fast, a sign that he too was having an early high stress kind of day.

"I'm guessing that things didn't go to well with the British Prime Minister last night?" Gunny chanced, falling back against the rose coloured wall.

"I called him a tight ass and told him to do something other then decorate a chair in the House of Commons." Nate nodded and hung his head.

"You've got to learn to control that temper, Mr. President." Gunny laughed. "You want me to call him before the press conference that we're having at noon? Set up a meeting where the two of you can clear the air?"

"That's probably wise. You might also want to provide me with a case carrying two antique pistols and a copy of the Marquess of Queensbury rules, you don't need to provide one for Cunningham, he's so old fashioned that he can likely recite them by heart." Nate adjusted the cuffs at his wrists.

"Sir, a quick side question before we go any further?" Gunny chanced as the two of them started walking down the hallway.

"Better make it quick, Gunny, we've got to go join up with Charlie, Stacy and Harriet." The two of them stood at the elevator.

"Sir, you know those new fangled panties that they've got out now. The ones that kind of look like really tight shorts but they ride up really high?" Gunny explained, not caring that the President was kind of looking at him like he had two heads.

"Gunny, you have the unique privilege given to scarce few men in every administration and that is that aside from the First Lady you have more face time with the President of the United States then anyone else and you used that time to talk with me about panties?" Nate peeked a curious eyebrow. "Do I want to know what brought this on?"

"Not particularly, now do you know what they're called or not?" Gunny asked, trying to take a little pressure off.

"They're called boy shorts, Gunny." Nicole said as she walked passed the two of them into the elevator. "And no, Nate wouldn't have had any idea what they're called so, even though it might be a little embarrassing you'd probably be better to refer any lingerie questions to me or Harriet."

"You are really hot when you do that." Nate smiled as he got on to the elevator.

0827 ZULU

HILLINGDON HOSPITAL

LONDON, ENGLAND

Johnny-Reb left the room with Anna for a second to go down to the lobby and pick up a coffee. "Listen, kid, I'm sorry that I haven't exactly been there for you the last couple of weeks, the green pilots at Pensacola needed a little seasoning."

"Yeah, well you were the better pilot, Johnny." She ordered the coffee. "I broke up with Miles."

"I heard, your mother's got a big mouth." Johnny took a seat at the table. "What happened."

"I woke up one morning with the curious urge to smother him in his sleep and I realized that's not the kind of relationship that you're supposed to have with the man you're planning on marrying." Anna let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "At least not until you've been married for fifty years."

"I think my parents would agree to that." Johnny added. "So, what's on your mind?"

"My friend who's lying in that hospital bed right now having another unit of blood pumped into him because despite all medical reasoning that says he should have bled out yesterday, he didn't." Anna explained really quickly. "I also get the feeling that I may have to smack the collagen filled lips of his new Mossad agent girlfriend."

"She's really not that bad and she seems to really care about him." Johnny argued without raising his voice.

"So do I." She shot back.

"I never said you didn't." Johnny reminded her. "The fact is that both you and Sergei did a lot of running in this last year. You ran headlong into a romance that we tried to warn you about."

"You don't need to beat me over the head with that fact." She warned him.

"I didn't think I was." Johnny continued. "But Sergei ran too. He ran all the way out to an LHD in the middle of the Mediterranean. The region erupted into war and just like Rick and Ilsa in _Casablanca_, the two of them fell in love."

"Yeah, except Rick and Ilsa had to separate, twice, if memory serves, for the greater good." Anna reminded her friend.

"Sergei and Tamila are going to have to separate as well. Mossad isn't going to station her in Washington permanently and we don't have any bases in Israel that we can send Sergei to. Eventually one of them is going to have to face a choice of country or love. I don't see their bond surviving that conflict, I'm sorry." Johnny tore open a sugar packet and dumped it into his coffee. "Besides, what Sergei does or doesn't do with his love life is really none of our business."

"Isn't there something in our officer's oath that says something about not allowing our officer's to do harm to themselves? Isn't there some legal basis here?" Anna questioned.

"I'm sure that if we looked hard enough, we could find one but we don't want to do that." Johnny pursed his lips. "What we want to do right now, is pray for him to wake up. Then after that, we do nothing."

"But I wanna!" Anna pouted sarcastically. "I don't know why the hell I care about who he's sleeping with."

"I know why." Johnny laughed. "It's because you're jealous that he's not sleeping with you."

"I am not!" Anna protested. "Where the hell did you get that idea?"

"Maybe from the fact that in the time I've been here at the hospital, you've done nothing but bitch about Sergei's girlfriend." Johnny theorized. "Besides, I know about what happened last year after that exercise with the Cobras remember?"

"I'm not telling you anything any more." Anna vowed.

"Why? Because I use it against you when you're being petty and childish? If that was a reason for anything there's be a lot of very mute people in this world." Johnny took one last sip of his coffee. "Listen, kiddo, you played this game last year and it didn't go so well. It's someone else's turn at the game board now. Step off, let them have their turn with the full knowledge that it's only temporary and be prepared to jump back into the game when the board opens up again."

"Yeah, well I might not have time for that. I got a transfer out to the pacific. A few months at Fightertown until the _Stennis _heads back out to sea. Then I'll be on her." Anna finished off her coffee and got up from the table.

"I'm going with you out to the Pacific then." Johnny said as he stood up.

"Afraid I can't take care of myself?" She asked, slightly annoyed and turning on heel to face him.

"No, I'm just not going to let you run again. Last time a relationship didn't go so well for you, you ended up on the _Lincoln_ during an exercise against North Korean navy presence in the Sea of Japan, I wasn't there to watch your wing and as a result none of your friends got any sleep for three days." He held up his hand to silence her objections. "And if you think there's the faintest chance in hell that you're going without me, you really should have you're head checked because you're obviously delusional."

"Do you think it's easy to get these kind of orders cut?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You forget. There are only three men in your life that your brother approves of and trusts implicitly. I'm one of them and he's the Commander in Chief, orders aren't a problem." He grinned at her sarcastically and she rolled her eyes.

0908 ZULU

HILLINGDON HOSPITAL

LONDON, ENGLAND

The conference room door opened and Nate watched as Prime Minister Cunningham walked in with his Chief of Staff. "Gentlemen, could you give us a moment?" Nate looked over at Gunny who was standing with the Prime Minister's Chief of Staff. They nodded and left the room. "Dick, the relations between our two countries are too important to be jeopardized because you and I don't agree on the peace plan for ending this crisis. By the way, I apologize for calling you 'stuffy' and accusing you of being a wallflower head of government."

"Apology accepted, Mr. President. I'm afraid I owe you one as well. To be honest, Nathan, you hit something of a sore spot. When I heard of this idea, I was distraught to have not received so much as a phone call from the White House letting me know that you were considering such an idea much less to not be included in the actual peace process." Cunningham began. "It's not an easy thing to have a friend push forth on something this monumental without acknowledging any role for you."

"The thing is, Dick, there really is no role in this for anyone outside of the people I already listed. The only reason I'm going to be there is because someone needs to be able to rein in Israel and Russia. The Egyptians are there because someone needs to rein in the Syrians, Turks and Iranians. I'm not going for peace but rather as Harry Truman put it, just 'the absence of war'." Nate answered as he moved away from the window. "I think there's one thing that we do need to talk about and that is getting our European 'partners' to crack down on security and terrorism a little harder."

"I couldn't agree more, Mr. President." The Prime Minister answered. "Nathan, if I might be so bold as to impart a few words of advice."

"A conservative giving me advice? I think members of my party might not be very pleased with me, Dick." Nate laughed. "What's on your mind?"

"You need to understand something, Nathan, you're a different generation trying to lead the world. The rest of the world's leaders are going to be spending the first year of your Presidency trying to find out who you are and what kind of President you are because they're all a generation older then you and they're not going to like being dictated to by someone that young. Don't take it as an assault." Cunningham suggested.

"What should I take it as?" Nate asked.

"An opportunity." Cunningham began to hit his pace. "When Wilson came over to Europe in 1919, he was the first President whose influence extended over the Atlantic and his fourteen points which were seized upon by the revolutionary minds of Europe. You are in a unique position to accomplish the same. You are in the position, Mr. President to shed the looming spectre of Reagan and the monolithic America. See, the way Europe sees it, the last twenty years it's been America & the Free World rather then just The Free World."

"You think I can do it without looking like I'm sacrificing America's role in the world?" Nate asked.

"Hell, Truman thought he could, and he was just a suit salesman from Kansas City." Cunningham answered.

1017 ZULU

HILLINGDON HOSPITAL

LONDON, ENGLAND

Harm sat by Sergei's bed through the night. Mac had taken the kids back to the hotel with Harriet some time around 2am. Mikey Roberts, Anna and Tamila had taken turns sitting at the other side of the bed. Harm had gotten to know them all a little more, by talking with them about Sergei. He'd had the chance to observe the real magnetism that his brother had through the people who were closest to him. It was very early or late, Harm couldn't even tell anymore because between the jet lag and the lack of sleep he wasn't quite sure in which direction time actually ran any more.

He rubbed his eyes and returned his focus to his brother's unconscious form. He swear her saw his nose wiggle. He rubbed his eyes again, damn this lack of sleep was getting to him. He felt the door open behind him. "Any progress?" Mac asked as she sat the kids down in two chairs.

"BP's up, Dr. Mallard thinks he might be completely stable within the hour and I swear I saw him wiggle his nose." Harm answered, leaning back to kiss Mac on the cheek.

"Okay there, sailor, I think you've been up just a little too long." Mac stood behind her husband and began to knead his shoulders. "You know, you could catch a few hours of rest, check out isn't until three for the room and me and the kids used."

"I'll sleep on the plane." Harm protested. He looked down at Sergei again, Mikey Roberts was in the room taking the shift for the friends half of the admitted guests. "Didn't you see his nose wiggle, Mikey?"

"To be quite honest, Admiral, I'm so tired I'm not sure I could identify my own nose much less his." Mikey answered drowsily. The two men kind of looked like bobble-head dolls as they sat their waiting for some sign from the heavens that Sergei was going to regain consciousness. When his finger twitched, they both bolted upright in their chairs. "You saw that?" Mikey asked.

"I did." Harm replied. They hunched over with anticipation waiting for something more. When they heard a loud groan and they saw his head move. Harm hit the button to page the nurse who came trotting in along with Dr. Mallard mere seconds later. By that time, Sergei had opened his eyes slightly. The doctor checked Sergei's vitals including his pupils and his glands.

"My young friend, I dare say that you gave your family, friends and two Heads of Government rather considerable scares." Dr. Mallard explained.

"I do not understand, the last thing I remember is the plane landing on the runway." Sergei began to sit himself up in the bed when he felt the stitches strain on his right side.

"My young friend, by the time that you reached surgery you were at a Class IV Haemorrhage. Your heroic ability to land the aircraft had aggravated the small tear in your axillary artery that was endured in the initial assault. You were suffering from tachycardia, your systolic and diastolic blood pressures were almost interchangeable and both were in the numerical range of the final score of an American football game. Your body had reached the very limits of its ability to compensate for such blood loss. If they hadn't gotten you here when they had, you'd be dead my young friend." Dr. Mallard made a note on Sergei's chart. "No sense in speculating about that one now. Your blood pressure is 121 over 84 and I'll inspect your stitches and dressing one last time before turning you over to the medical care of the President's physician."

"President's physician?" Sergei asked slightly confused.

"Yeah, Marine, you're a hero, you didn't think I would let you sit in Washington when I could be assuring that you have access to the best doctors possible?" Nate stood in the doorway. "I figured you'd want to get back home, so I hopped on Air Force one, brought my personal physician and the Surgeon General so that we could get you home without doing more damage."

"He also gave all of us a ride so that we could get here." Harm answered with a smile.

"Yeah, everyone except for me." Johnny-Reb appeared at the foot of the bed. "I got hauled off a beach at Pensacola to be here."

"Nice to see you, too, Johnny." Sergei chuckled as a nurse helped sit him up in bed.

"What about the rest of us?" Mikey Roberts leaped in. Sergei looked around to see Mikey and Anna standing with Tamila and Johnny.

"Well, I am rather excited to see all of you as well." Sergei went to swing his legs over the side of the bed.

"You're going to need to put your uniform on, Sergei. " Harm lifted the jacket. "Or at least try to anyway. There are a lot of people who are going to want to shake your hand. Hopefully they'll stick to shaking your left hand."

"You're an American hero, Sergei, not just an American one either. There were citizens of eight different countries on that plane including British, French, American, Italian and Greek and you saved all of their lives." Anna lightly put her hand on his arm. "I think my brother and the Prime Minister of Great Britain both have a few parting gifts for you."

Sergei stood up from the bed and both Harm and Mac jumped to his side to make sure that he didn't lose his balance. "I'm fine, my wound is in my shoulder and arm remember?" He held up his left hand. "I'm going to need to get changed, could I please be left alone for a second?"

Everyone nodded and left the room so that Sergei could get changed. The Presidential staff left to go out front of the hospital and handle the press scrum while members of the Rabb family and Sergei's closest friends waited out side the hospital door for him. Inside, Sergei was adjusted his dress blue uniform. The midnight blue jacket hung open and loose about his shoulders to accommodate the sling that his right arm was in. He gave a slight adjustment to the medals on the left side of the jacket and the slid his white cover under his arm. He gave himself a nod in the mirror and went walking out of the hospital room. "So, how do I look?" He asked, looking around at his friends and family.

"Like a Marine." Mac, Johnny and Anna all answered at the same time. "We're all really proud of you, Sergei." Anna added for the group.

"Thanks." He nodded a silent understanding and finally got a look at her left hand. She wasn't wearing her ring any more, this could only mean one thing. He was also not in the kind of environment where raising questions was appropriate in that regard. He just gave another nod and walked with his friends and family toward the front door of the hospital. They took it slow so as not to put too much stress on his stitches or overexert him. By the time that they got to the front of the hospital, they found Secret Service and Scotland Yard holding back the Press Scrum so that Sergei could stand next to the President of the United States and the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.

"Lieutenant Sergei Rabb, for your meritorious actions in the combating of terrorism, an enemy of the United States and indeed of all free persons, I present you with the Medal of Honour, on the behalf of the Congress of the United States." Nate walked around behind Sergei and tied the Medal around his neck. "Congratulations, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir." Sergei answered and shook Nate's hand.

"I believe the Prime Minister has something for you now." Nate responded, indicating that Sergei should turn around.

"Leftenant Rabb, as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom and on the behalf of Her Majesty and her government it is my most esteemed privilege to award you with the Victoria Cross for your actions on the morning of May 4th." The Prime Minister reached forward and pinned the cross on Sergei's jacket. "Courage of your calibre is a most precious and rare commodity young man. It bodes well for our civilization that we should produce such men as yourself."

"Thank you, sir." Sergei answered. He turned around to face Nate and raised his left hand for a salute which Nate returned in kind. "Permission to return to my family, sir?"

"Granted." Nate answered with a smile. With the conclusion of ceremonies, Nate and the Prime Minister stood out front of the hospital for a few minutes to answer questions while everyone else was loaded into the motorcade headed for Air Force One.

"Gunny?" Harm leaned on the limo next to Gunny. "That was awful quick to get a Congressional Medal of Honour out here."

"Well, Admiral, when you're the Chief of Staff to the President you can compel the Speaker to call a late session of Congress, you can compel the House Majority leader to introduced a motion that passes with unanimous support and you can have the JAG officers from the NATO office do a quick investigation all in twelve hours." Gunny answered with a superior grin.

"You're really enjoying your new job, aren't you?" Harm asked with a chuckle.

"I really am, Admiral." Gunny answered as he gave the Secret Service the signal to get the President to the motorcade.


	21. The Difference

Nate sat on a couch in the residence looking down at a CIA intelligence report on the current crisis in the Middle East that was now slowly churning into its second month. The First Lady was on the west coast, she was appearing on the Tonight Show tonight and the First Mother inhabited a guest room in the West Wing. "Hey, Uncle Nate, grandma said I should bring you out some milk and cookies." Helene came walking in from the kitchen.

"Did she also say that I was Santa Claus?" Nate looked up from his paper at his niece. "Don't you have some big history presentation due on Friday?"

"Aunt Nicole tell you that?" Helene sat down across from her uncle.

"I may work from six in the morning until ten in the evening most nights but I do get briefed on my kids three times a day and I normally talk to them when I tuck them in at night." Nate groaned and rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry, kiddo, what problem are you having with your history presentation?"

"We have to pick one President from history and do a five minute presentation on why we think that he was the best." She answered, taking one of the cookies from the plate.

"You're not going to do your report on me are you? Because I've been in office for four months and I'm not all too impressed with what I've done so far." Nate closed the folder on the CIA briefings.

"Uncle Nate, what did you do in the Marines?" Helene didn't look up at her uncle who immediately leaned forward on the couch.

"I killed people. A lot of very bad people." Nate answered, knowing that there were limits to what he could say.

"Why?" Such a simple question, as they used to say, out of the mouths of babes.

"Because I was good at it, because it was what they told me to do and like a good Marine, I followed orders and swallowed my humanity and did it." Nat answered.

"How many people?" The girl asked.

"I can't tell you." In his life, he knew that it was more then a hundred. He'd shot eighty-seven in his work for the Marines and the CIA. There was the time in Borneo when he had gone with Gunny and Mac into the jungle to save Harm and Peach. There had been the one time that only one other man in the world knew about. He was fourteen and on vacation with his godfather in Israel. They had been on their way north from Jerusalem to Haifa and they were in the West Bank when their jeep was attack and flung from the road. Nate had been fourteen when he'd shot his first Hezbollah terrorist. He would have similar experiences in Israel for four more years without showing up on Mossad radar officially.

"What did my dad do?" She twiddled her thumbs.

"Your dad led a platoon of Marines who helped take the Kuwait airport in Desert Storm. He was a leader in one of the most deadly conflicts of that war." Nate paused and gave a chuckle. "You know who your dad's favourite President was?"

"No," Helene shook her head, "who?"

"Teddy Roosevelt." Nate answered. "Me and your dad used to have some real long talks about what it took to lead the country and your dad used to give me a pat on the back and give me that condescending older brother voice and tell me that Teddy Roosevelt was the only man who ever sat in my seat that really honestly knew the difference between war and peace."

"Didn't he win a Nobel Peace Prize or something?" Helene asked.

"Yeah, he was the only Republican President to win a Nobel Peace Prize. He ended the Russo-Japanese War." Nate nodded.

"Wasn't he a soldier, too?" Helene asked her uncle.

"Yeah, he was." Nate nodded with a chuckle.

"Maybe I'll do my report on him then." Helene got up off the chair. "And Uncle Nate?"

"What is it, kiddo?" Nate looked over the back of the couch.

"My dad was wrong, I think _you_ understand the difference between war and peace just as well as anyone can." With that, the young girl padded off toward her bedroom.

0345 ZULU

NATIONAL MALL

WASHINGTON, DC

Anna stood by the reflecting pool in her uniform waiting for Sergei to come and join her. In the last few weeks, she'd been by his temporary apartment quite a few times to check up on him. It was her last few weeks in town and she wanted to make sure that he was okay before she was transferred out to Fightertown on the west coast. In all truth, she liked Southern California and even though the idea had taken some getting used to, she liked the idea of having her wingman go along with her.

She knew what Southern California with Johnny Reb would be like. They'd be on duty until they were told to secure for the day and once that happened, Reb would grab his straw cowboy hat and acoustic guitar and head for the beach to pick up some beach bunnies. She'd spend most of her time trying to bust her ass to make Major rather then get caught in a six year Captaincy that most Marines seemed to have to endure. There were things about her friends that she wished she had. Sergei was never above making any sacrifice and that made him a favourite with Commanding Officers. Reb was just a natural behind a stick.

"It's a beautiful night." She heard a voice with a slight Russian accent say.

"Yeah, I always loved spring in DC." She turned to face him. "I love summer in Southern California a little more though."

"I've never been." Sergei answered. "I've spent my entire time in the US on the East Coast. Except for three days in Bremerton when we all went on that first _Stennis_ tour."

"Sergei, I'm transferring into PACFLT. I've got a round as a squadron XO at Miramar before Johnny-Reb and I head on to the Stennis for another tour." Anna decided it was best to just come out with it.

"Listen, if this is about the thing with the Senator or Tamila or whatever, it's not so important that you have to go across the country." Sergei tried to explain as the two of them sat down on the edge of the reflecting pool.

"Yes it is, you've got a chance for real happiness with someone and you deserve an honest shot at that without me looming overhead. You deserve happiness, you've got a chance at it and that's wonderful, I need to do something for me. I need to go out west, clear my head and put some more gold stars on my service record for the promotions boards." She smiled sweetly at him and stood up from the edge of the pool. "Take care of yourself, Marine." She kissed his cheek.

"You really don't have to go." He took her by the arm gently to prevent her from walking away. "Really, you don't."

"Yes, I do." She nodded at him. "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and all that." She gently stirred his arm off of hers. They exchanged one last glance and she walked away slowly whistling the Marine Corps Hymn.

0410 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"How is it that you get home earlier as DCNO this time around then you did last time?" Mac asked, arms crossed across her chest.

"Easy, Sturgis does a lot more work then Bax did." Harm answered as he peeled back his side of the comforter. "I picked up something for you on the way home from the office." He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a thick magazine and dropped it in the middle of the bed.

"The Naval Legal Journal?" Mac reached down and picked it up. "What's this?"

"Go to the table of contents and look at the lead article for this quarter." He told her and Mac quickly flipped through the first few pages.

"The Expectation of Self Discipline: Fraternization and the Modern Military by Brigadier General Sarah Rabb, USMC." She read aloud. "I don't understand, wouldn't they have had to notify me if they were going to print the article?"

"I kind of absconded with the mail for the last two weeks." He tried to look innocent. "I wanted this to be a surprise."

"And a surprise it was, but stealing my mail is still a felony." She pointed a finger at her husband as she crawled on to the bed.

"I'll plead it down to a misdemeanour, Mrs. Rabb, now what's my punishment?" He questioned as he too crawled on to the bed.

"I could make you buy me that hot tub that I've been asking for since we got married." She said with a mischievous smile. "Or, I could make you and Sturgis and Keeter and Bax dress up like the Temptations and sing 'My Girl' at my birthday party this year."

"Mac." Harm warned in a tone that bordered half on fright and half on annoyance.

"Wait, that one's good, I'm going to have to write it down." She went for the pen and paper on the nightstand but when she turned Harm grabbed her by the ankle and playfully pulled her into the centre of the bed. "What the heck are you doing, Harm?"

Mac asked, not that she minded when Harm got _this kind_ of passionate.

"My penance, Mrs. Rabb." He replied in a growl as he began to run his hands under the pyjama top.

"What about the kids?" She asked, hoping that they wouldn't be disturbed.

"In bed sleeping." He answered as he began to undo the buttons on the top.

"And the dog?" She lulled her head back, enjoying immensely what he was doing.

"In Tommy's room sleeping at the foot of the bed." Harm answered.

"Good." Mac answered as she mustered up some forced and rolled the two of them over so that she was on top straddling him.

"Mommy!" They heard the soft masculine voice cry from the doorway. "What are you guys doing?" Mac climbed down off of Harm.

"Wrestling, honey, what's wrong?" She walked over to her son.

"I had a scary dream." Tommy complained as he leaped up into his mother's waiting arms. "Can I stay with you guys tonight?"

"Sure, bear." She flicked her son's nose. "Did you want daddy to tell you a bedtime story?"

"Nah, I want to here the one where you save daddy from all the bad guys!" Tommy proclaimed and Harm just had to roll his eyes

1213 ZULU

THE WEST WING

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

"Do you ever get the feeling that we don't get paid enough to come into work this early?" Morley complained to Charlie as the two of them walked through the bullpen.

"Hey, you're talking to the guy who spent half the night on the phone with senior staffers from five different countries." Charlie reached for a new coffee mug. "I slept at my desk."

"You badly need a social life, I mean you need one more then _I_ do and that's saying something." Morley lectured.

"What are we talking about, my gnomes?" Stacy headed over toward the coffee maker.

"The fact that the sum total of our contact with the female gender in the last four months has consisted of discussions with you, the first lady and a hand full of Senators and congresswomen." Charlie answered sarcastically.

"What are the three of you just standing around here for?" Gunny asked as he made his way into the bullpen.

"Gunny, it's a little after 7am and I slept at my desk last night, the only thing keeping me awake and standing right now is your coffee." Charlie answered and took another sip.

"We've got a major peace conference in a week and an armistice that goes into effect in a little under an hour. So, here's what I want happening. Morley you're the communications director, I expect a copy of the language for the President's press briefing to be on Stacy's desk in an hour. Charlie, get on the phone, make sure that the shooting that is supposed to stop at 8am Eastern, actually _stops_ at 8am Eastern. Stacy, get ready to brief the press, there's a new guy from Reuters, we stuck him in the fifth row." Gunny took a deep breath. "Any questions?"

"Yeah, boss, when was the last time you got laid?" Morley asked, continuing the vein of conversation from earlier.

"This conversation is over." Gunny nodded and sent Morley off to his office. "Where the hell did that question come from?"

"Derek and I were lamenting over the fact that in the last four months the closest we've come to actual female contact involved the women we work with." Charlie explained as they all walked toward his office.

"Hey, we did get to see Stacy in boy shorts in London." Gunny pointed out.

"This is true." Charlie admitted with a smile as they stopped outside his office.

"You two are pigs, you know that?" Stacy saw both of them shrug their shoulders at her comment. "How did you find out what they were called? Did you research it or something?"

"The First Lady told me." Gunny stated proudly. "Granted at the time it was one of the more awkward conversations of my lifetime."

"I bet." She said sarcastically.

"Is that a new perfume?" Gunny asked absent mindedly.

"Yeah." Stacy furrowed her eyebrow.

"It's nice." Gunny commented. "Anyway, you've got your assignments, people, get to it." He headed down the hallway toward his office and the oval. The President had a meeting first thing this morning with the Secretary of State who was in the middle of trying to explain why the only department that pulled an ostrich when the crisis started, should now take the lead on the most important peace conference of the twenty first century. "Good morning, sir." Gunny walked into the oval.

"What's so damn good about it?" Nate asked from behind the desk.

"The Secretary of State was just here?" Gunny asked.

"She was." Nate nodded.

"And you told her to?" Gunny was fishing.

"Sit on it and twist." Nate replied with a sarcastic smile.

"Probably not a good idea to piss of your cabinet, sir." Gunny suggested.

"Listen, every once in a while, you have to remind them who's boss. Besides, since when does the US State Department back down from a crisis? What kind of message does that send?" Nate was starting to get a little annoyed and he began to pace. "I don't want to see a Republican today, I might just throw them out on their ass."

"You've got that meeting with the Vice President and AIPAC here in five minutes, sir." Gunny reminded the President.

"I want to…" Nate started but Gunny interrupted.

"You've already postponed this meeting five times, no matter how much you wish for it, sir, AIPAC isn't going to just go away." Gunny reminded his boss.

"Isn't there some Palestinian Political Action Committee we could post at the door to scare them away?" Nate joked and Gunny shook his head. "Alright, guess I'm going to have to deal with some angry Jews this morning. Gunny, I may need a helmet."

"Yes, sir." Gunny chuckled as a knock came on the main door of the oval office. The doors opened and the Vice President stepped in with the Chairman of AIPAC.

"Morning, Wes, Tobias." Nate shook both of their hands. "What's on your mind, Tobias?"

"Mr. President, we have concerns about your Israel policy. Frankly, sir, one of your greatest strengths in the last election was that you campaigned on a strong policy with Israel and once they were in trouble, you backed off completely." The AIPAC chair challenged the President.

"Tobias, do you have a degree in international relations?" Nate asked.

"No, Mr. President, economics." The AIPAC chair answered.

"I didn't think so, Tobias because if you had, you'd realize that my policy in this crisis was to chart a clear course for American interests which I believe I did. In the last two months, the Iranian Air Force, the Iranian Nuclear Program and the Syrian Air Force have all been completely destroyed and as of twenty minutes from now, an American constructed armistice is going to silence all gunfire in the region. Not to mention the fact that in two weeks time, because of our objectivity in dealing with the matter by not openly making any statements to support or condemn either side, we're going to be able to sit down and along with the Egyptians and be the intermediaries for a real peace in the region. Now, if you want to get really picky here you could point out that the last weapons shipment we sent to Israel before the war was of the new avionics software for the F-15 which seemed to come in remarkably handy." Nate paused to breathe. "So, Mr. Chairman, I apologize for not completely coming out chanting 'Viva Tel Aviv!' and wearing by Moses Fan Club t-shirt, but the fact is that I was elected by the people of the United States and not Israel so, it's _their_ interests I protect."

"Mr. President, I was merely conveying the confusion which my committee experienced during the crisis, you have made your position clear and for that I thank you. I also know your record while Secretary of State, you broadened the scope for our arms exports to Israel." Tobias stopped for a second. "You still have our support but like most people we do have concerns when not granted a full explanation."

"Tobias, I don't think the President was trying to lecture or condescend." The Vice President interjected.

"I'm sure that he wasn't, Wes, I was just trying to make sure that we were all on the same page. Israel is the only real democracy in the Middle East, Mr. President, as such they should be given special consideration on certain matters." Tobias brought his ankle up to rest on his knee.

"Despite the fact that they've cause the most casualties in this war?" Nate questioned.

"Most casualties on military targets, Mr. President. Strictly speaking, the other side has created the most civilian deaths." Tobias countered.

"A life is a life. Well, it's been good speaking with you, Tobias, but I have to get ready to head out to Istanbul in a week." Nate shook his hand and Tobias left the oval. "I swear, Wes, sometimes that guy really gets under my skin."

"I couldn't tell, Mr. President." The Vice President joked

1345 ZULU

THE PENTAGON OPNAVS OFFICE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"Ceasefire came into effect forty-five minutes ago." Sturgis told Harm as he walked into the large office.

"Any reports of bombs or gunfire in the Bekaa since the end of the fighting?" Harm sat on the edge of the desk and stared down at ZNN.

"Nothing." Sturgis shook his head. "Thanks to the President, the Secretary General of the UN had blue berets on the ground at 0800 on the dot this morning standing between the Israeli and Syrian-Turkish lines."

"We get a wire from the CINCMED?" Harm turned toward the yellow paper on Sturgis' desk.

"Bax reports all foreign Naval traffic in the Eastern Mediterranean is on stand down and his fleet has gone down to DEFCON 4. Peacekeeping Flight Operations have been launched from the _Harry Truman_, _Bataan_ and _Robert Kennedy_ to establish UN air superiority and a no fly zone over southern Syria, Lebanon and northern Israel." Sturgis walked over behind his desk. "Hard to believe it's all over?"

"Hard to believe that the boss was able to convince the Israelis to stand down." Harm answered with a gasp of disbelief. "Any word on who from the Pentagon is going with the President to the Peace Conference?"

"No word yet." Sturgis answered. "I read Mac's article in the Naval Legal Journal, she's still got her touch. Pity she decided to reserve, the Marine Corps needs all the great legal minds it can get. So does the Navy for that matter."

"I know but she likes being mom. She and Reverend Chegwidden are going to coach the kid's t-ball team out in McLean this year." Harm chuckled. "Speaking of which, Chaplain Turner still on your back for a grandkid?"

"Don't remind me." Sturgis rolled his eyes. "It's not so easy trying to keep the romance alive when your wife is the chairperson of the Senate Committee on Foreign Relations."

"Hey, man, you want a way to put a little kick back in your marriage, call Keeter, I'm sure he has a bunch of ideas." Harm joked as he elbowed Sturgis in the ribs.

"Yeah, but Keeter's ideas may violate public decency laws and that's bad if memory serves." Sturgis laughed. "You going to call the Mediterranean fleet back to Gaeta?"

"I'm going to make that recommendation to Barris, yeah. We'll keep the subs, the carrier and the amphibs outside of Cyprus but we'll call back in the frigates and destroyers so it doesn't look like we're trying to control commercial traffic." Harm took the manila folder from Sturgis and headed toward his part of the office. "Hey, Sturgis?"

"Yeah, buddy?" Sturgis looked up form his paperwork.

"You miss it?" Harm asked, indicating the TV.

"You mean being a thousand feet beneath the waves, breathing recycled air, eating food from a tin and trying to run completely silent?" Sturgis asked. "Everyday. What about you?"

"You think they'd let a three star take a bird off an aircraft carrier deck?" Harm asked.

"I don't think they'd stop you, I'm not sure how wise it is to try but I don't think they'd stop you." Sturgis answered.

"Ah, guess, I'll have to stick to pictures then." Harm answered with a smile.

"Remember, buddy, we've got that meeting with the SECDEF to update him on our capabilities with regard to keeping the _Truman_ group out there until we can send out _Vinson_ to relieve them." Sturgis lifted his head from his paperwork yet again.

"Where's Tom today?" Harm asked.

"He's out at Pearl having Keeter update him on Naval Intel in the Pacific. Seems they sprung a leak a few days ago and Deputy Secretary Boone is out there doing his best impersonation of General Patton." Sturgis answered.

"There was a leak at Pacific Naval Intel? Why the hell didn't they tell us right away?" Harm asked.

"Because they didn't find it until yesterday." Sturgis went back to his work. Harm shook his head. This job would have him going through more Alka-Seltzer and Aspirin then being the JAG ever could. Maybe, he thought, I should by some stock in those companies.

1522 ZULU

THE SITUATION ROOM

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

"We're sure that this room is secure?" Clayton Webb looked around in his usually snooping kind of way.

"Clayton, this is the most secure room in the entire country and everyone in here has codeword clearance so would you get the ants out of your pants and sit the hell down!" The Vice President demanded and Webb took a seat.

"Alright, we all know why we're here right?" Nate looked around the room. He saw AJ Chegwidden the Secretary of Defence, The Vice President, Clayton Webb Director of CIA, Victor Galindez White House Executive Chief of Staff and Mike Bradley the National Security Advisor. "Clayton, brief them on the mission."

"Two months ago, after the down of the El Al flight, the President ordered the insert of a CIA wet team codenamed 'LIONHEART', their mission was to make contact with the Iranian Reform Underground in Shiraz, which they did. The President's charted course of diplomacy in this latest conflict in the region has not driven any support away from the Reform movement. The team is in place to help the Reformers initiate the Iranian Counter-Revolution." Webb turned toward the President.

"This afternoon, I had the White House Counsel draw up orders to temporarily amend Executive Orders 11905 and 12333." Nate began. "In order for LIONHEART to succeed in their operation, certain limitations needed to be lifted. This included the thirty year ban on the assassination of foreign leaders by the CIA."

"Next week, the President of Iran will be in Istanbul for the Peace Conference. The first time we are able to get all other parties to agree to a treaty, except Iran, we will leak it to the Reformers who will spread the message to the Iranian people. This will complicate our actions, it will alert VEVAK but the Ayatollah is expected to make a public appearance at a parade in Tehran with the rest of the Supreme Council." Mike Bradley took over. "Our LIONHEART team is comprised of Iranian exiles who all have personal tragedies done to them by the 1979 revolutionaries. One of our agents is on the inside at VEVAK. He will plant a kilo of C4 under the watch stand for the Supreme Council. We have an assassin, our very best, positioned more then two miles away. When the Ayatollah steps up to speak, the assassin has been directed to put a bullet in his brain. That will be the signal for our explosives expert to blow the rest of the reviewing stand."

"In the chaos that will ensue, the reformers believe that they can overwhelm the IRGC and take the capital. The underground will round up the members of team LIONHEART and smuggle them to the Afghan border where a team of US Army Rangers will pick them up." Webb wrapped up the briefing.

"Seems to me, Mr. President, that we could be accused of negotiating in bad faith." AJ Chegwidden leaned back in his chair.

"These are all risks that have been considered, AJ. But this was the best confluence of events that we could hope for. An Iranian instigated war the led to the destruction of their nuclear program and Air Force, not by the west which has been vocally neutral, but by Israel. The same government who created the war becomes obstinate in creating the peace. This was the best time to get public support on our side." Nate answered as he dropped his pen on the table. "The amendments to Executive Orders 11905 and 12333 have been authorized with my signature and they've been classified by the CIA. The Gang of Eight will be notified by Charlie Scott less then an hour before everything is set to take place."

"They're not going to like that." The Vice President warned.

"The War Powers Act only says I have to tell them, it doesn't say how far in advance I have to tell them." Nate chuckled. "Besides, more people knowing about this are an unnecessary risk."

"Agreed." Clayton Webb chirped in. "We get one shot at this and it has to work. We've put up with the Ayatollah for thirty years, it's about time we shot the son of a bitch."

"Okay, Gunny, take Charlie Scott aside today and tell him in a very discrete way what we want him to do. Charlie and Morley are staying behind from the Istanbul trip, Wes, work with them and Clayton, make sure Gunny's getting hourly updates once everything starts, alright?" All the gravity in the world showed up on Nate's face as he looked at his Vice President.

"Yes, Mr. President." The Vice President nodded.

"Alright, gentlemen, as Thomas Paine said 'These are the times that try men's souls.'" Nate got up from the table which was followed as was custom by everyone else getting to their feet.

"We're doing a good thing, sir." Gunny assured the President.

"Remind me of that when we see the bodies on ZNN would you?" Nate replied as they headed toward the oval.

0111 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"Another day, another war ended." Harm mused as he plunked himself down on the couch next to Mac.

"You make it sound as if you had personally thought up the armistice." Mac reached for the popcorn that he had sitting in his lap. "It's not peace, you know? It's just the absence of war."

"What's the difference?" Harm asked, lightly playing with his wife's hair.

"Peace is when you eliminate the underlying reasons for a conflict. No matter how hard we try in the Middle East, we'll never be able to do that. We may end a nation-on-nation war but within hours of the Treaty being signed, Hamas will blow something up in Jerusalem or Bethlehem and we'll all fall off that great idealist cloud." Mac hung her head with resignation. "Or the Iranians will have some teacher in the south of the country arrested for suggesting that the Ayatollah might not know everything and that man will just disappear. Don't you see, we're not fixing anything, it'll just be less broken."

"If we can't end something, then isn't it best to limit the amount of damage that it can do?" Harm asked, turning down the volume on the TV.

"Good case, counsellor, I'm still not convinced but you argued it well." She popped a few more kernels of popcorn into her mouth. "So, I got a call from GW."

"George Washington University?" Harm asked, slightly surprised. "What did they want?"

"To offer me a job. It seems the President of the University read my article in the Naval Legal Journal then he looked up my credentials. They're looking for a new professor for military law and international law for fall semester. It's only twenty hours of lecturing a week, entirely while the kids are in school." Mac answered. "What do you think?"

"You think you would want to do something like that?" Harm asked. "I remember that seminar that you gave at the Academy a few years ago."

"I think it's a way for me to keep in contact with my professional community without neglecting my responsibilities to my family." Mac began to trace her fingers along his arm. "There's just something about interacting with the law for me, it's like you and your planes, except it's a little harder to get killed for failing to eject from an argument." Mac joked and flicked the end of Harm's nose.

"So, you think you could get used to being called 'Professor Rabb' instead of 'General Rabb'?" Harm asked as he let his arm fall around her shoulders.

"I just think it'll be interesting to talk for hours on end without being interrupted and have a flock of students who take my word as gospel." She grinned.

"Yeah, you might also be the first prof in GW history to be able to qualify as a centrefold." Harm chuckled and Mac gave him a smack on the chest.

"Is that all you can think about? Sex?" She asked as she got up from the couch to get a pop from the fridge. "Is the once prudish Harmon Rabb now in possession of a mind that resides permanently in the gutter?"

"Well, you know with a wife like you, I don't know many guys that would blame me." Harm watched Mac's six sway gently from side to side. He just smiled contently and let his mind drift off to fantasy land.

"Earth to Harm? Tower calling Rabb, do you have the ball?" Mac examined her husband's contented facial features and goofy smile. He was daydreaming again. "Harm, come back!" Mac demanded.

"But it's so pleasant here." Harm stated drowsily. Mac took him by the collar and pulled him down over her.

"I can make it _very_ pleasant for you right now." She teased.

"What about the kids?" Harm asked, shifting from daydream to reality.

"Over at Sergei's. They're with a Marine and a Mossad Agent, it's like having them in a childcare version of Fort Knox." Mac answered as she nibbled playfully on his bottom lip.

"One sec." Harm groaned as he reached over to the end table and flicked off the lamp, cloaking them in darkness. "Much better."

0219 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE RESIDENCE

WASHINGTON, DC

Nate was once again sitting on the couch looking down at force depletion report that had been faxed over to him by the UN Secretary General with regard to the latest peacekeeping efforts in Bekaa. He heard a soft pair of feet padding on the carpet behind him. He looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Do mine eyes spy the ravishing Mrs. Ross?" He played as she came over and sat on the couch. "How was LA?"

"Hot." She answered. "Did your mom have fun with the kids?"

"I swear, by the time they're fourteen, they will have had so many hours of informal therapy that their little minds should be clear of any possible mental plagues." Nate joked as he kissed the top of her head. "You already to go to Istanbul next week?"

"Depends, are you going to talk with them about women's issues?" Peach looked up at her husband.

"Honey, we've been over this. As much as I'd like to strike a blow for gender equality in the Middle East, the idea of it just isn't compatible with Islamic society. The Turks have made modest overtures in the past and the Egyptians may try but Syria won't and it would be a non-starter with anyone else in the region." Nate answered as he lay the papers down on the table in front of him.

"I know, it's just that I'm the First Lady and I've got influence, I'd just like to be able to use it." She lamented as she leaned back against his chest and he began to knead her shoulders. "We also need to talk about my mother." Nate groaned his displeasure aloud at that statement. "Nathan, be serious. My mother's getting older and she just can't do everything for herself any more. One of us is going to have to take her in."

"Well, what about your brothers, it's like their duty, isn't it?" Nate asked as he worked his hands under her pyjama top and against the lightly tanned soft skin of her back.

"Which one? Angelo, the Marine Sergeant who lives on base or Joey, Mr. FDNY who lives in a two room apartment?" Nicole asked in between moans, obviously thoroughly enjoying her husband's attention.

"Well what about your sister and Dr. Gary. I'm sure that they'd love to have her." Nate suggested as he brought his hands down to the small of her back.

"Mom keeps telling her that she thinks Gary's gay. I'm not sure how good of an idea it would be to have her over there." Nicole proceeded to bat her eyelashes at her husband.

"You know how it works, this is the White House, hun, we can't just bring people in to live at the White House. If we weren't living here I'd take her in a heartbeat but right now none of us need the added dynamic. The kids are finishing school for the year, Helene's going into High School next year, we've got to spend ten days in Turkey, it's just not the time." He kissed her forehead. "I love your mom, you know, but it's going to have to fall to one of your sisters to take her in."

"Nathan, I don' know why you feel you have to make sense all the time." She huffed slightly. "Do I have to let you have your way on this one?"

"I usually give in the rest of the time. It would be nice to get my way once in a while." He smiled weakly.

"Sure, once in a while." She rolled her eyes. "Don't find many Presidents who claim they don't get their way."

"How many First Ladies have held Masters degrees?" Nate challenged.

"You can stop making sense now." She deadpanned.


	22. Ten Days in Turkey

Air Force One was flying over continental Europe toward Istanbul. Harm had been tapped to be a part of the American delegation. After all, he had experience with Maritime and International Law and he was a three star Admiral. The National Security Advisor was there and so was Bax who was going because he commanded the American military presence in the region. It was good to be working with Gunny, though working with Gunny in and of itself took some doing being as he only ever left the President's side in order to talk to senior staff.

Well, speak of the devil, Gunny seemed to be coming over to sit with him. "We're over Spain, Admiral." Gunny announced as he took a seat. "Sir, what kind of gift is it appropriate to get a co-worker for their birthday?"

"Why do I get the feeling that this question could lead to me testifying in front of congress?" Harm asked as he looked up from the pages upon pages of information in his lap.

"It's nothing like that, sir." Gunny answered. "Just trying to run a good office."

"Gunny, is this co-worker male or female?" Harm pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Female." Gunny answered.

"Single or married?" Harm followed up.

"Single, sir, what does this have to do with anything?" Gunny raised an eyebrow.

"Gunny, if this was a guy, I'd tell you to get him tickets to the Nationals or the Capitals and just forget about it. Guys don't put much stock in _why_ we got a certain gift. Women do. Women analyze everything to death. I remember a couple of years ago, I bought Mac a diamond necklace and you know she asked?" Harm nodded at Gunny who was already preparing to laugh. "Are they real?" Harm did in his best feminine impersonation of Mac. "Gunny, if you're going to get a female co-worker a present for her birthday, either make it funny or make it small unless you want to hear a lot of questions."

"I'll take that under advisement, sir." Gunny answered with a nod. "So, are you prepared for this?"

"I had a long talk with the Missus yesterday and once I was convinced that the President wasn't just chasing a Nobel Peace Prize, I decided that this was the best use of my time. Besides, I still wear a uniform and when the President gives me an order, I don't really get a lot of options." Harm answered. "I guess that's sounds a little cynical, huh?"

"Just a little, sir." Gunny answered.

"I just don't understand why he waited this long." Harm voiced aloud.

"Because in my experience they have to have a reason to want to sit down at the table." Nate intervened. "Harm, I don't mind you having concerns, I just prefer you talk to me about them. I consider us friends but you're of no use to me as an advisor if you won't be honest with me."

"Are you conspiring with Mac now?" Harm asked with a chuckle. "She said the same thing."

"That's because she's a Marine, we're more prone to common sense." Nate and Gunny shared a laugh at that while Harm just rolled his eyes.

"You do realize that both your military and your international law advisor at this conference are Navy, right?" Harm brought both of them back down to earth.

"Kill joy." Nate tossed at him. "So, what's it like to be on a bird that's being piloted by an Air Force pilot?"

"You really know how to rub salt in an open wound, don't you?" Harm deadpanned. "Well, he's not so bad. I'd still prefer a Top Gun grad or a Marine at the helm."

"I'm not sure that Bart Banner would like that too much." Gunny replied referring to the Air Force Chief of Staff. "The President's had me dealing with the Air Force and Army Chiefs of Staff. Neither of which are particularly nice people. Army and Air Force brass just don't have the same relationship with NCO's as the Navy and Marines."

"That's because they all have their own separate Academies. At Annapolis, Squids and Jarheads have to get used to dealing with each other. Once you've gone through that kind of Oil and Water atmosphere, dealing with a few sergeants and Petty Officers is real easy." Nate replied as he flipped off his shoe and began rubbing his foot.

"Don't you have people who do that?" Harm asked.

"I left them in Washington." Nate answered. Harriet came into the office from the front cabin. "How's the First Lady?"

"Currently speaking with the First Lady of Egypt, sir." Harriet answered as she dropped down into a chair. "I never imagined how much work it would be as the First Lady's Chief of Staff." Harriet groaned.

"Just think about it, Harriet, you earn a lot of Air Miles from all these trips on Air Force One, you and Bud should be able to take the kids somewhere nice for vacation this summer." Harm leaned back in the chair. "Besides, Washington scuttlebutt is that you're the most efficient Chief of Staff for the First Lady since Jackie O."

"Hey, Hey, look what I've got." Stacy came walking into the back holding the latest issue of _Washington Life_ magazine.

"Oh God!" Harm and Nate groaned simultaneously. "You remember when we were in _that_ issue?" Harm looked across at the President.

"Don't remind me." Nate shook his head.

"What issue?" Harriet looked up at the White House Press Secretary.

"10 Sexiest DC Bachelors." Stacy taunted in her best alluring voice.

"Give that here, girlfriend." Harriet reached for the magazine and pulled Stacy down into the seat next to her.

"Harriet!" Harm sounded incredibly shocked.

"Admiral, I'm married not dead or blind." Harriet answered as the two women looked at the magazine. "Just flip to the back, let's see who number one is." Stacy eagerly rifled through the pages to the back. "Wait!" Harriet paused. "That's Charlie!"

Harm, Nate and Gunny all broke out into coughing fits. "What?" Harm choked out.

"Yup, he's number seven our Charlie." Stacy nodded and began to read from the magazine . "The essence of Geek chic, Deputy White House Chief of Staff Charlie Scott holds a Master's Degree in American Politics from Harvard and a Bachelor's degree in Political Science from Princeton. Charlie worked on both Clinton campaigns as well as Al Gore's 2000 campaign. After that, he took on a leading role in the rise to political prominence of the current President and he's the chief campaign political mind in the Democratic Party. It is believed that he is jointly responsible with the President for developing the policies of Moderate Progressivism which led to the Democratic landslide in the last election." Stacy continued flipping through the pages.

"They make him sound like political superman." Nate commented.

"Able to leap tall lawn signs in a single bound, sir." Gunny added.

"Who's number one, girls?" Harm asked.

"Wait a minute, Admiral." Harriet raised her finger. "Here we are."

"Oh, you're never going to believe this." Stacy raised when hand to her mouth in an attempt to hide her shocked expression. "White House Chief of Staff Victor Galindez may have been a political neophyte in December but by the time inauguration rolled around, he'd had fifty days of intense political schooling by former Republican Chief of Staff Gavin Ahrens. Galindez, known as 'Gunny' around the White House, is a former Marine Master Gunnery Sergeant who served in Kuwait, Serbia and Afghanistan. From what we can tell after his first four months in the job, Galindez runs the administrative arm of the White House with an iron fist, all the press briefings have been exactly on time, the President's language has been direct and to the point and the Political Affairs Office has been whipping Congressional Democrats as if they were on a chain gang. Add to this the way he looks in his standard Calvin Klein, Tommy Hilfiger or Ralph Lauren suit and you've got one combination hot enough to have the women of DC sweating in their Victoria's Secret." Stacy mocked fanning herself with the magazine.

"Don't let it go to your head, Gunny." Nate added, still rubbing his foot.

"Yeah, Gunny, both the President and I have been number one in that magazine and it's nothing big really." Harm played nonchalant which had the girls looking at him with a look that said 'yeah right'.

"Well, sir, I'm going to go talk with Colonel Broadbent, see when he plans to land this boat." Gunny headed off for the cockpit.

1340 ZULU

CIRAGAN PALACE

ISTANBUL, TURKEY

"Mustafa." Nate was greeted by the Turkish President outside of the Hotel.

"Mr. President, I hope that you have been treated well since you landed." The Turkish President shook his hand heartily.

"Sublimely, Mustafa and my compliments to you and your staff on choosing such an exquisite location for these talks." Nate refused to let anyone else carry the gym bag of clothes he had slung over his shoulder.

"Well, it is a trifle warm." The Turkish President humoured. "Mr. President, I wish to thank you for encouraging this dialogue so that we might put an end to all this unnecessary fighting."

"Well, I'm glad you agree that it's unnecessary." Nate groaned as the two men, with their respective staffers, walked through the lobby. "Has Aziz arrived yet?" Nate indicated the Egyptian President.

"Yes, he arrived this morning as did the Israeli Prime Minister. The Iranian President arrived last night and the Russian President is expected tonight." Mustafa looked up at his guest. Of any of the world leaders who would be here this weekend, Nate had the greatest international profile, Mustafa Hasim was no fool, he knew that this war was unpopular and that for any American President to be greeted in the Muslim world by cheers was not something to be overlooked. He also knew that the introduction of Egyptian President Aziz Rifaat by Nate as a political mediator had lent a great deal to that popularity.

"Mustafa, it has been fun catching up but I should most desire to get my team set up for tomorrow. So, until then I wish many blessings on you and your house." Nate ended the conversation with the traditional Islamic gesture which President Hasim was obviously taken aback by Nate's knowledge of but reciprocated in kind. The American delegation crowded into the elevator.

"Alright, we're on the top floor. Mr. President, you and the First Lady have a suite. Mike and I are on one side, Harriet and Stacy are on the other side. Admirals Rabb and Baxter are across the hall." Gunny looked down at the arrangements the hotel clerk had given him. "We're on the floor with the Russian delegates and the Syrians."

"They put the Israelis and the Iranians on the same floor?" Nicole raised an eyebrow. "Does anyone see that ending well?"

"At least they put the Egyptians down there to referee." Mike admitted as they heard the bell for the elevator ding and they all got off. "We're not expecting to be here longer then ten days, right, because it would be incredibly unwise to pull a Woodrow Wilson and spend seven months in a foreign country to negotiate a treaty."

"I know, I know." Nate rolled his eyes. "Guys!" Nate called for Harm and Bax who were across the hall. The two Admirals turned to face their Commander in Chief.. "The dress for this weather is Summer Whites, I hope you brought them." With that Nate ducked back into his hotel room.

"What does he think we are, idiots?" Bax asked as he threw his sea bag down on to the bed.

"I think he's stressed." Harm answered. "This is going to be just like our old Academy days, I see us running up a rather large bar tab and I see you charging a lot of movies to pay-per-view."

"I take offence to that." Bax did his best to act hurt. "What do we do until the conference starts tomorrow.?"

"My guess is that we put on the summer whites and get ready to meet our fellow military attachés The Israelis, Turks, Syrians and Egyptians are already here." Harm pulled his summer white uniform out of his sea bag and placed his cover next to them. "Do you get the feeling that there's something we're not being told?"

"I can feel it." Bax remarked as he took of his blue coat and dress shirt and threw on his summer white uniform top. He headed off toward the bathroom to change his pants. "What made you suspicious?"

"The fact that the National Security Advisor is going on this trip but I didn't see him for the entire flight over, in fact I don't think he ever left the comm." Harm remarked as he finished switching over to his summer whites. "Something's going on and it's got CIA involvement written all over it."

"I hope you're wrong." Bax came out, dressed in the summer white uniform, his white cover tucked under his arm.

"Why?" Harm asked, tucking his cover under his arm and heading for the hotel room door.

"Because if you're right, it could jeopardize the peace talks and the last thing we need involved in this crisis is more corpses." Bax opened the door and the two of them walked out into the hallway.

"Great hotel though." Harm commented absently.

"Great hotel." Bax affirmed.

1920 ZULU

CIRAGAN PALACE

ISTANBUL, TURKEY

"I wish that our first meeting could have been under more peaceful circumstances." President Aziz Rifaat of Egypt stepped out on to the President's balcony.

"We're working for peace, Aziz, what greater circumstance could their possibly be?" Nate asked, moving a chair with his foot and motioning for his fellow peacemaker to sit.

"You're an optimist." Aziz sat in the chair. "There are not many in these days, not in this part of the world."

"Well, my mother always used to say that there was but one great truth to our humanity and that was that optimism persisted even in the bleakest of times." Nate answered with a smile as he reached for his drink. Finding alcohol in the Muslim world normally presented something of a difficulty but modern secular Turkey carried many of the same beverages as did Europe. "I would offer you some, but I know that you would not partake."

"I appreciate the offer." Aziz nodded. This was a political game that all political leaders played upon meeting each other, it allowed them to feel out the other person's character and personality. The Egyptian reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and produced two cigars. "It is permissible to Allah that I might partake in these." Aziz offered him a cigar. Nate accepted it graciously.

"It's not even Cuban, I can see that you did not come up here to tempt me." Nate chuckled.

"I had a question." Aziz began.

"Don't we all." Nate mused.

"Why choose me? You're the American President, whether or not they like you, the power of your office is enough to compel anyone to the table." Aziz brought his ankle up to rest on his knee.

"Because you're a good and wise man, Aziz. I may have devoted my intellectual life to the study of Islam and it's politics but that doesn't mean that I'm fit to deal with these men without the greatest of assistance." Nate leaned back in the chair and puffed on the cigar. "Aziz, Carter and Sadat were friends because they understood that paramount in all things must be the realization that we're all human and that killing each other some how takes away from that."

"I think if all Americans put such study into the culture of this region, there should be a greater understanding between our two peoples." The Egyptian knocked some ash off into a waiting ash tray. "Do you foresee any difficulties in our negotiations?"

"Israel." Nate paused and twirled his beer so that the 'Miller' label was facing him "They're going to press every measure of disarmament as pertaining to their national security."

"I agree." Aziz nodded. "I see Iran being a problem. Ahmad is a proud man, he will not be so ready to hand anything over in the name of peace and compromise. We should have our work cut out for us." The elder Muslim stared out from the balcony over the straits which had cause the escalation of the crisis. "You are granting a courtesy to the people of this region that Churchill and Roosevelt and Wilson and Reagan never thought to give them."

"What's that, Aziz?" Nate returned his focus to his guest.

"A voice. You're treating them as an equal." The Egyptian finished his cigar and left it in the ashtray. "I shall see you in the morning, Mr. President."

"See you then, Aziz." Nate answered as he shook his hand.

1003 ZULU

CIRAGAN PALACE

ISTANBUL, TURKEY

It was a first, and the International Press was all over it. The President of the United States and the Iranian President were in the same room for a peace conference. Of course, Iranian leaders had come to New York in the past for the opening week of the UN. The Israeli Prime Minister and the Russian President sat to Nate's right while the Muslim leaders sat to his left. Nate was in his element, the only native language for this conference that he didn't know was Turkish but that worked out fine because Mustafa Hasim spoke English anyway.

After the initial gathering, the two groups split up and went aside for their separate discussion groups. Bax was among the military leaders, Harm was with the international law experts, Mike had gone with the members of the collective intelligence communities and that left only Nate's group which was of course the Heads of State.

In Harm's experience, lawyers were boring, lawyers that had to communicate through translators were even worse. All the groups were subdivided into the different alliances, the American team worked as the intermediaries for the Russians and Israelis while Egyptian team worked as intermediary for the Turks, Syrians and Iranians.

"Nikolai, Yonatan, please take a seat." The two men sat in the living room of the Israeli Prime Minister's Suite on the first floor of the hotel.

"Mr. President, from what the Director of Mossad tells me, I may have been too harsh in judging you earlier when I had heard that you had cancelled all arms shipments." The Israeli Prime Minister began. "I must state that regardless of what the other side might say, this is not a debate on the Palestinian question, we are only here to end the current violence."

"That is understood, Yonatan." Nate nodded. "Anything to say, Nikolai?"

"My country and the Turks have only been involved in this conflict in a supporting role. As such, my old friend, my only demand is an apology from the Turkish President for the brutal murder of Russian citizens." The Russian tented his fingers.

"Well, I suppose that's reasonable. Although it does somewhat prove the futility of war." Nate rolled his eyes. "Any starting demands, Yonatan?"

"A few." The Israeli began and everyone settled in for a long day.

2011 ZULU

MCAS MIRAMAR

SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

For Marine Captain Anna Ross, teaching a bunch of greenie Marines how to fly the Rhino. It was the newest aircraft but not the newest acquisition by the Navy. When the Tomcat was retired in 2006, the temporary void created by it's retirement led the Navy to conscript into service the F-15 and F-22. Of course, this meant that most Navy and Marine Air Wing Commanders needed to be trained by Air Force jocks. Of course, the Marine Corps was still the Marine Corps and she was still flying with Johnny-Reb on her wing which meant that the spotlight got a little crowded from time to time.

She was coming around from her plane to the O Club when she heard two Second Lieutenants from her squadron speaking with each other around the corner. "Hey, did you see our new squad XO?" One of them said enthusiastically.

"How could you miss a pair of afterburners like that?" The other one joked.

"Wouldn't mind giving her a ride on the old joystick, if you know what I mean." The first one cracked. This last comment was followed by the sound of a pace quickening and a dull thud as something was rammed up against the side of the building. She came around the corner to see Johnny holding both of the young officers up by their necks.

"Gentlemen, the two of you are officers in the United States Marine Corps. Captain Ross is likewise an officer in the Marine Corps. If you find yourselves unable to act accordingly, tell me now and I will give you an intensive course in the proper way to address a superior officer. If not, then I suggest you maintain proper decorum when speaking of a fellow officer." Johnny's red faced Texas temper was getting the better of him.

"Captain Ricker!" Anna commanded and Johnny looked over at her. "Put down the Lieutenants!" She ordered and Johnny dropped the two young pilots where they stood. They scampered off toward the O Club and Johnny stood to face Anna. "You can't do that, Johnny." Her tone softened. "It can't get to you every time some jerk makes a comment, you can't run around trying to defend my honour, you'd have no time left to fly."

"I was just trying to protect…" Johnny began but Anna silenced him.

"I know what you were trying to do. I would appreciate this if we were at a bar or the mall or something but on base I've found that the easiest way to blend in and get my job done is to ignore the sexist comments about my looks and the jokes about wanting to bed me and just do the job ten times better then the idiots making the comments." She answered with a smile.

"Okay, but I was just…" Johnny tried again but she cut him off again.

"Sweet, stupid, Johnny." She gave him a pat on the arm. "Now, come on, Marine, let me buy you a beer." The two of them headed off for the O Club. "I really don't need you looking out for me like some over-protective Georgia Bloodhound you know?"

"I know, but if I don't look out for you, then who's going to look out for me?" Johnny tossed her another Texas grin that when combined with his drawl made her understand why the beach bunnies of Southern California seemed to take an almost immediate liking to him.

"Shut up, Cowboy, or I won't let you ride the mechanical bull." She took the cowboy hat off his head and placed it on hers as she headed up the steps into the O Club.

"Hey! What does that even mean?" Johnny asked as he chased behind her.

1012 ZULU, 2 DAYS LATER

CIRAGAN PALACE

ISTANBUL, TURKEY

Gunny walked out of the so called 'warm room' of the Turkish bath and into the 'hot room'. The hot dry air made the place swelter with heat but he had promised himself that he would experience this, besides; the President had recommended it to him as a way to chill out. The attendant had directed him toward a pool of cold water which he sunk down into willingly. He was told that the next step was actually the bathing part of the Turkish bath so when he saw the attractive female bathhouse attendant come over to assist him, he silently thanked the heavens and made a mental note to get the President something really nice for suggesting this.

He heard a familiar female voicing groaning from another pool across the room and through the mist. "Stacy?" His voice ventured through the mist.

"Gunny?" He heard her reply. "This is a little awkward, huh?" They couldn't see each other, so that wasn't really the concern. It was more the reality of being naked in the same room as someone you had to work with that was the concern.

"I'm too relaxed at the moment to feel awkward." Gunny grunted as the bathing portion ended and the massage portion of the experience began.

"You have a good point." Stacy answered, very vocally enjoying her own massage. "The First Lady told me that she had reserved the bathhouse for our delegation this afternoon."

"The President told me the same thing." Gunny grunted as the attendant worked at the knots in his back. "The last two weeks have been the intellectual equivalent of running full speed, head first into a brick wall." The two of them laughed. "Over all, I think I prefer it to a day of dealing with Charlie, Morley and their collective insanity."

"Ouch." Stacy chuckled. "I'm sure they'd be delighted to hear that."

"Well, we came to an agreement late last night." Gunny continued.

"The Iranians will never agree to it, Gunny, we'll be back at the drawing board come Monday morning." Stacy rolled her newly loosened up neck. Gunny's mind instantly snapped to that frightening anticipated information which he had kept stored. He hadn't seen the President since early this morning and Mike Bradley had actually gotten up before Gunny this morning. They were preparing to unleash LIONHEART. He couldn't quite feel tense about it though, not with the way this woman's fingers were loosening up his back. He shook his head and let it roll a little.

After about a half an hour, his massage was over, he had a towel handed to him. He wrapped it around his waist and walked into the last room, known as 'the cooling room'. The TV was turned to ZNN International and there were plush chairs for him to sit in. He saw Stacy sitting in one, a towel around her body and one wrapped in a turban over her hair. She wasn't sure if it was politically correct in this part of the world, but after the experience she had just had, she wasn't sure that she really cared either.

The two of them saw the big flashy graphics fly across the ZNN screen and turned their attention to the TV. Their eyes went wide as they watched the scenes playing out on the streets of Tehran and the words that they were hearing. This was certainly going to change their talks over the next few days.

45 MINUTES EARLIER

AMERICAN CONSULATE

ISTANBUL, TURKEY

President Nathan Ross and his National Security Advisor stood in the room of the CIA attaché to the American pro consul in Istanbul. They had a secure line to Langley and another to the office of the Secretary of Defence. He suddenly felt like thought Kennedy must have felt before the Bay of Pigs. There was a set of orders for him to give, if he just gave the orders, everything would turn out alright? Wouldn't they? Well, maybe for the American people thousands of miles away nothing would change. One decision, one order given in what had previously been an insignificant little back room in Istanbul would have repercussions for generations.

"Sir, the team is in place." Mike Bradley walked up next to the President.

"How much time do I have to give the order?" Nate asked in a quiet voice.

"No more then forty-five minutes." Mike leaned against the desk.

"Run me through one thing one last time, Mike, how sure are the Reformers that they've got enough popular support to make this work?" Nate gulped.

"They know they do, recent elections, groundswell in black market arms smuggling to the underground, the lack of support for the war with Israel, the general sense of the cost of the war. We added the final touch last night when we leaked to Langley the Iranian President's obstinate attitude toward the peace accords. We've got the summation of factors. Now, all we need is a spark to light the fuse." Mike stepped forward and handed Nate the phone. "I think you should give the order, Mr. President."

Nate took the phone in hand and thought for a moment. This was going to jeopardize and likely destroy one of the most tyrannical, oppressive, backward regimes on the planet but there would be bloodshed in accomplishing this task and that was what worried him. Everything had it's price. No one before had really ever asked if the price of peace was too high. That thought raced through his head as he raised the phone to his ear. "Clayton?" Nate asked.

"I'm here, Mr. President." Webb's voice came through the phone.

"I'm giving the order. LIONHEART goes in thirty-five minutes." Nate bowed his head solemnly.

"Understood, Mr. President." Webb replied.

"May God have mercy on us, Clayton." Nate whispered.

"Yes, sir." Webb answered. Nate handed the phone back to Mike who began to go through the logistical details of the mission with Webb. Nate paced the floor waiting for Mike to hand up the phone. Eventually, that was what happened ant Nate looked up at the man who twenty years earlier had started out as his CIA contractor for targets.

"We should be getting back, we don't want them getting suspicious." Nate motioned for the door and the two of them walked through it. Both let out a heavy breath. The political dynamic of the Middle East had just changed and no one would know it for thirty-one minutes and nineteen seconds.


	23. Ten Days in Turkey Pt2

No one had moved in the hotel since the news began to come in over ZNN. Well, that's not entirely true. The Russian and Israeli delegates had been whisked off into their rooms. The Turkish President conveyed his deepest regrets but he had to return to Ankara for the remainder of the weekend. Gunny had initially felt a little uncomfortable about making a diplomatic send off in a white cotton towel but with the President and the NSA getting a CIA briefing from the American Consulate, he was the senior man on the delegation and having rushed out of the 'cooling room' in a towel not remembering until afterward that he wasn't wearing a suit, he had to make due.

The serious problems were occurring with the Iranian and Syrian delegations. The Iranians were debating pulling out of the conference. There was no progress being reported on how far or how successful the current organized violence in Iran was. When the President came walking through the front door of the hotel with the National Security Advisor. Stacy rushed over to get between the President and the bombardment of reporters. "Have you got a briefing?" Nate whispered to her.

"Quick one, sir, came up with it on the way down here." Stacy answered. Nate nodded at her and she began to brief the press. "I'll take questions now." She looked out into the press gallery and began taking questions. Nate pulled Gunny aside and toward the elevator.

"First of all, I'm not sure how comfortable I am with you doing diplomatic small talk in a towel but since I suggested the Turkish Bath, I won't bitch." Nate watched the lights above the door. "The next thing about this is that I need a complete situation brief of everything that's happened in the ninety minutes since I've been gone."

"The Iranians are acting like chickens who have just discovered there's a fox in their coup. The Turkish President has to do some things in Ankara today and tomorrow but he's expecting to be back by Monday, Tuesday at the latest. The Russians have cloistered themselves off in their hotel room. The Egyptian delegation is being called back to the hotel. The Syrians have been on the phone with Damascus since ZNN first started reporting and I've had to schedule two personal meetings for you." Gunny answered as they got off the elevator.

"With who, Gunny?" Nate turned to look back at his Chief of Staff.

"Admiral Rabb wanted to see you once you got back. Then the Israeli Deputy Director for Mossad wanted a meeting, so, I scheduled him after Admiral Rabb." Gunny rhymed off the info without a pause.

"Mike, which Mossad Deputy Director is at the conference?" Nate began walking backward so that he could face his advisors.

"Avi David." Mike answered and Nate stopped in his tracks. "Something we should know, Mr. President?"

"No, have Director David ready to meet with me. Do you know what Admiral Rabb wants to talk about?" Nate asked.

"No, sir, but he seemed curiously mad." Gunny stopped along with the rest of the group Nate walked into the hotel room of the two Admirals that were a part of the delegation.

"Okay, Harm, I heard that you had questions, I assume that Bax had similar concerns." Nate had his hands on his hips looking from one of his military attachés to the other.

"Yeah, I want to know if we had something to do with this." Harm pointed to the TV. Nate looked at the all too familiar scene of massive violence erupting in Tehran.

"How badly do you two really want to know?" Nate challenged. Harm crossed his hands in front of his chest. "Mike!" Nate shouted at the top of his lungs and the National Security Advisor came bounding through the door.

"Yes, Mr. President." Mike stood next to his boss.

"CIA swept the rooms for bugs this morning, right?" Nate asked, hands still firmly on his hips. Mike nodded. "Good, these guys want to know about LIONHEART."

"We did this?" Harm's eyes shot wide open.

"No, this is not an American mission technically speaking. There was already an Iranian underground organization with arms supplied to them by Saddam, Russia and just about anyone else who tried. All we did was drop in a four man CIA wet team. One assassin, a demolitions expert and two other agents who were responsible for creating discontent in members of Iranian society not already convinced of the corruption in the current government. They were all Persian exiles from the 1979 revolution all of them looked and sounded the part and none of them will be traced back to us." Mike took a deep breath and stopped.

"So, the assassin was the one who shot the Ayatollah and the demo expert blew up the grandstand?" Bax question, all the men were whispering and the TV was turned up to the maximum volume just in case the room wasn't secure.

"Killing every member of the Iranian administration with the exception of the Iranian President who is here in Istanbul." Nate finished up.

"So we did have something to do with this?" Harm uncrossed his arms. "You had us negotiate in bad faith?" He charged.

"No, bad faith implies you knew this was going to happen and you negotiated anyway. What I did was have you two negotiate in blind ignorance." Nate responded. "Listen, let's put our collective egos aside for a moment. A Pro-Democracy tide in Iran is good. It may keep us here for an extra few days but a big picture look at this situation is a lot better with the Ayatollah dead, his fellow mullahs dead and their loyal military and intelligence leaders also dead."

"You could have told us beforehand." Harm argued.

"It was judged to be too much of a security risk. I knew, Gunny knew, Mike knew, AJ knew, Charlie knew, the Vice President knew and Webb knew. That was essential personnel, the Gang of Eight was told an hour before the shot was fired and if you think that you're pissed off, you should have heard the Speaker of the House when Charlie Scott told him an hour before the shot was fired." Mike Bradley jumped in. "Listen, we got an agreeable formula of world events and we went for it. We're sorry that we didn't include you guys, but certain things needed to be done."

"Like the lifting of Executive Orders 11905 and 12333?" Harm questioned, his tone almost accusatory.

"Yes, we temporarily amended the orders for a specific half an hour time period, fifteen minutes to either side of the time scheduled for the firing of the shot." Nate answered. "They came back into effect a little more then an hour ago."

"How much of this is untraceable?" The SEAL in Bax was coming out.

"Every step of the way. The whole op will be written off to the Reformers. Not even the leaders of the Reform movements knew our guys were CIA, they'd been imbedded for months." Mike Bradley answered.

"Alright, Mike, you take it from here, I've got a meeting with the Israelis right now." Nate gave his National Security Advisor a pat on the back and headed out the door to meet up with Gunny and his Secret Service detail. "Where's Avi?"

"Waiting in your suite, sir." Gunny answered.

"And the First Lady?" Nate asked.

"At Santa Sophia with the other political wives, they're on a tour." Gunny answered.

"Good, Gunny, go help Mike sort out an explanation for Bax and Harm alright?" Nate stopped walking to face his Chief of Staff.

"Yes, sir." Gunny nodded and headed across the hall. Nate stepped into his hotel room to find a dark haired man with wisps of grey decorating his neck and sideburns.

"Afternoon, Avi. Does the view make you homesick for Tel-Aviv?" Nate asked as he walked across the suite.

"Shalom, Nathan." Avi David turned to face his old friend. "It's been along time."  
"August 20th, 1982." Nate recounted from memory. "We were in the West Bank when we heard from Eitan's Headquarters that the UN was overseeing the PLO withdrawal from Lebanon."

"You were a good agent." Avi took a seat.

"I was American and under twenty-one, I was a security risk." Nate replied, taking a seat for himself. "I worked with you and Moshe and Ben Yazi so that you would keep my name out of Mossad files."

"Which we did, despite pressure from Begin himself." Avi pointed out. The two men had reached an uneasy stalemate in their reflection on old times.

"How's your daughter Ziva?" Nate raised his chin to look the Israeli right in the eye.

"Working as an attaché at your NCIS." Avi replied. "I'm surprised you did not know this."

"The oval office doesn't allow me many trips down to NCIS HQ, I'm lucky if I get there once this term." Nate answered. "Why did you want to talk to me, Avi? It surely wasn't to catch up."

"No it wasn't." Avi leaned forward. "I wanted to look you in the eye when I asked you if you had anything to do with Tehran." The two men were now glaring at each other. "Did you?"

"No." Nate replied without thinking. "Iran's beyond the reach of my fingertips, you know that. The Russians would have had the resources."

"Political suicide if they're caught. Same reason Mossad would have nothing to do with the situation." Avi leaned back in his chair. "Could be Saddam, hell it could even be strictly the reformers as ZNN is reporting."

"I hear a big 'but' coming, Avi." Nate was humourless.

"But it has all the earmarks of something you came up with." The Israeli answered. "Meticulously planned, incredibly psychological in it's approach, but there was one thing about it that was especially trademark, something someone who didn't know you would never pick up on." He paused for a second. "A single shot."

"What are you talking about?" Nate raised an eyebrow.

"There was only one shot fired, and from some distance apparently. The majority of the damage after that was done by an explosion. Now, unless my memory fails me in my old age, you used to pride yourself on being able to do anything with one shot." Avi leaned forward again. "So, you had nothing to do with it?"

"No." Nate replied concretely.

"Well then," Avi got up from the chair, "it has been fun catching up. Yazi and Moshe will be in Istanbul for the treaty signing, I hope we will all have the chance to reminisce then." The Israeli walked passed the President and out the door of the suite. Nate stood up and took his jacket off, laying it on the bed before looking out the window at the Bosporus.

"What's up, boss?" Gunny asked coming through the door.

"That son of a bitch knows." Nate growled.

"How? Did you tell him?" Gunny was in a panic.

"No, I didn't commit a felonious breach of national security and no I didn't give him any indication of our participation, in fact I denied it but he's got some pretty strong suspicions." Nate raised a hand to his chin.

"Why would he?" Gunny pressed.

"Because he and I used to work together." Nate answered cryptically. "Back when I was a teenager in search of adventure. He knows how I think when it comes to this kind of thing."

"Could this hurt us?" Gunny asked.

"No, he won't tell anyone because he's not entirely sure and even if he was, the loss of Iranian theocracy works in his favour. He's just expecting that this little meeting will send us a hint to be more favourable toward the Israeli way of thinking." Nate theorized. The spy game just gained a third dimension.

2024 ZULU

CIRAGAN PALACE

ISTANBUL, TURKEY

Nicole sat on the bed next to her husband who was reading the Washington Post. "Something's bothering you." She ran her hands over his shoulder blades.

"There's something that I need to talk with you about." He turned around to face her. "You know how you keep asking me about when I was younger, things that normally come up when my godfather visits."

"Yeah, what was he in Murder Inc. or something?" Nicole asked sarcastically.

"Mossad." Nate took her by the hand. "Anything I tell you, it can't go beyond this room." He looked as sincere as she had ever seen him. She blinked long and nodded. "From the time I was fourteen until the time I was eighteen, I worked with Mossad in the West Bank. Covertly, completely undercover, only three people knew I was working with them. It all started out innocently enough. My godfather was taking me from a watch post along the Jordanian border back to Tel Aviv when our jeep was ambushed outside of Ramallah. My godfather handed me an AK and the two of us just started fighting our way back to safety."

"You were fourteen?!" Her eyebrows shot up.

"Four summers I went back, four summers I worked with my godfather and Avi David and Ben Yazi. I was fourteen, I thought I was invincible and fearless and the best shot for a thousand miles." He paused and looked into her deep brown eyes. "I couldn't fear death, I was fourteen and I didn't fear dying and the only reason I could come up with was that with a rifle in my hand, I was creating death. The concept of hating your own creation seemed illogical. You know why I decided to devote my academic life to studying Islam? I wanted to understand what I had been taught to hate. Once I understood, it just didn't make sense any more."

"You've spent your whole life trying to atone for wrongs you were manipulated into committing before you were legally an adult?" Nicole wrapped him in a tight hug. "No wonder work seemed to haunt you when things didn't go as you hoped." She kissed the side of his head.

"I figured you'd be disgusted by who I am." He whispered to her, a tear rolled slowly down his cheek.

"I love the man you are." She whispered. "These things, they're just scars and we've all got them. You don't ever have to hide them from me." The two of them just sat there in each other's embrace for a few minutes before Nate decided that a change of topic was probably in order.

"So, how did the trip to Santa Sophia go?" Nate asked as the two of them leaned back against the pillows on the bed.

"What you're really asking is did I find out any information on how the talks are going from the other wives?" She raised an eyebrow at her husband who nodded as if being caught in a ploy. "Once we heard about the events in Iran, the Syrian President's wife went on and on about loss of funds, my guess is that they're getting panicky."

"God, your brain is sexy." He kissed her forehead.

"You want to know about the Israelis don't you?" She asked, evaluating her husband's mood.

"The thought had crossed my mind." Nate nodded.

"They were much less hesitant about peace after they heard about Iran. Seems like the whole region will benefit from a little chaos for once." She laid her head down on the pillow. "Go to bed, the press is going to want a statement from you tomorrow on the Iran thing, peace talks won't be able to fire back up until the Turkish President is back."

"You're right." He leaned down over her and brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear before kissing her lightly on the lips. "I love you."

"Love you too." She whispered back as she clicked off the lamp next to the bed.

0618 ZULU, MONDAY

CIRAGAN PALACE

ISTANBUL, TURKEY

All dressed for the weather and fresh off the previous day's press scrums and talking points, the leaders of the respective countries (with the exception of Iran) took breakfast out on the patio by the pool of the hotel. Nate wore the standard white golf shirt with the Presidential Seal over the breast pocket and along with his Egyptian counterpart. They had taken the biggest parts of the Friday agreement which had been acknowledged and premature and shallow and reworked them. The biggest concerns had been regional security. The UN would have to maintain a permanent green zone that ran from the current UNDOF zone in the Golan Heights to the Bekaa Valley and across the Lebanon-Israel border to the Eastern Mediterranean. The hot issue had become disarming Hezbollah. The Syrians claimed that Hezbollah was the only practical means at Lebanon's disposal for self-defence. The Israelis weren't willing to walk away with anything short of complete disarmament of Hezbollah's paramilitary wing.

Eventually a compromise had been reached, in exchange for a requirement that one quarter of all UN Peacekeepers in the region be Arab, the Syrians agreed to force a disarmament of Hezbollah. The Turk-Russian disputes had been handled rather simply but the ideas of more widespread handling of terrorism and regional nuclear capabilities Nate rubbed his temples, there had to be a limit on how much you could get done in one morning. "Mr. President, you need to come quick." Gunny burst out on to the patio.

"What's the problem, Gunny?" Nate and his fellow national leaders turned to face the American Chief of Staff.

"The revolutionary gains from yesterday were just announced. They've got Tehran, Shiraz, Isfahan and Mashhad. The Ayatollah's loyalists have pulled back to Qom although with limited VEVAK resources and no military commanders or political leaders. The reformers have abolished the Ayatollah's reign and they've proclaimed the Democratic Republic of Iran." Gunny was catching his breath; he rushed down the steps from his political middle-manning on the third floor.

God bless them, Nate thought silently. "Is that all, Gunny?"

"No, sir, we have two men representing the new Democratic Republic in the lobby, they're here to arrest the now ex-President of Iran." Gunny's mood was deadly serious. All the national leaders sprang out of their chairs and headed in from the patio to the lobby. They all headed toward the two men in the lobby who had the former Iranian President in handcuffs.

"Bebakhshid, esmetan chi st?" Nate immediately reverted to Farsi to skip over the language barrier.

"You can speak English, President Ross, we understand you. I am Ali, this is my brother Abdullah we were sent to arrest former President Eijhad for crimes against the Iranian people." One of the men answered.

"Please, Ali, there has been much blood spilled already. Do not make martyrs of the men you abhor, do not make them figures of emulation in the eyes of future generations. Spare his life." Nate moved toward the two men.

"Mr. President, the old government terrorized Iranians, people were dragged out of their homes, and shot for sedition. We have been terrorized, beaten, tortured and some of our fellow Iranians have simply disappeared. They have not earned your mercy." The man responded.

"Ali, in your religion, Jesus Christ is a messenger, a prophet of God. Did he not say, 'love thine enemy'? Did he not say 'blessed are the merciful for they shall obtain mercy'?" Nate argued, pressing all the passion he could muster into it. The two Iranian men softened their expressions.

"We will convey your wishes to the new President." Abdullah assured Nate.

"I'm serious about this." Nate stepped closer, his 6'3" frame expanding greatly. "Tell your President that this is a personal humanitarian request of the President of the United States."

The two Iranians nodded. Ali lifted his head and looked at Nate. "Jesus also said 'Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God'. Our cultures, Mr. President, they are different but not so drastically as either side believes. Khodafez, Mr. President."

"Salaam aleikom, Ali." Nate concluded as the two men dragged the former Iranian President out of the hotel.

"I did not know that you spoke Farsi, Mr. President." President Rifaat turned their attentions back to the conference.

"And Arabic and Hebrew." Nate added.

"And Russian." Nikolai jumped in.

"Five languages?" The Syrian President looked very impressed. "Most impressive, Mr. President."

"Do we have an agreement on regional security?" Nate asked, pressing the Syrian President.

"Allow me the day to work with my people back home. If this is acceptable, we will have an answer by morning." The Syrian answered. "Salaam aleikom, Mr. President."

"Salaam aleikom." Nate replied. "Aziz?" He turned toward the Egyptian President. "Will your government have established relations with the reformers in Tehran?"

"We did so some times around nine o'clock last night." Aziz nodded. "You want me to work as an intermediary?"

"I do." Nate nodded.

"I will see what I can do." Aziz answered.

"Shukran, ila lliqa." Nate responded in Arabic.

"Ma-a ssalama, Mr. President." Aziz nodded and headed off toward the elevator.

"Have I got your support, Nikolai?" Nate turned to the face of his old friend.

"I'm behind you Nathan Danielovich." Nikolai smiled.

"And you, Mustafa?" He turned to face the Turkish President.

"There has been enough bloodshed, the better part of valour in this case is peace, Mr. President." Mustafa answered. "The people of Turkey support your peace, Mr. President as you have helped to make it our peace."

"Yonatan?" The three of them turned to face the Israeli Prime Minister.

"Let us see what Aziz and Syria come back with." The Israeli answered. "Until then, I believe that our subordinates should continue to sort out some of the finer points."

"Always the pessimist, Yonatan." Nate chuckled and headed off to meet up with his National Security Advisor.

1544 ZULU

CIRAGAN PALACE

ISTANBUL, TURKEY

"I can't believe this, we've got the same deal as we had on Friday night with a few exceptions, why didn't we settle this on Friday night?" Harm was frustrated as he dropped down on to the bed.

"It's not exactly the same deal, the Israelis and the Syrians are closer together on regional security and terrorist disarmament. The Egyptians are going to bring us the Iranian position on the IAEA sites for any nuclear energy policy and arms sales to the new government." Bax sat on the edge of his bed and pulled off his shoes. "President's not going to make the same mistake we made in 1979, we've got a friendly government in Tehran, he's going to give them a little help in hunting down the last of the Ayatollah's supporters."

"I know, we're not giving up much here either. We're giving the UN a pretty big role in border patrols in the Israel-Lebanon-Syria region but the Secretary General already said he'd support it." Harm groaned as he slid his socks off. "I have a question, if we wrap up the agreements tomorrow, then what do we do until Saturday?"

"Well, the politicians will get together for some joint photo ops. They'll call a few nations to compile a peacekeeping force for the region. The military commanders will return to their jobs until Saturday when we come back for the ball, so will the intelligence reps. The lawyers will stay cloistered up here writing out the accords so that they're ready to sign on Saturday." Bax answered as he lay back on the bed with his cover pulled over his face.

"Sounds like a thrilling three days for me." Harm waxed sarcastic. "Hey, doofus, are you going to use the shower?"

"Nah, go for it, I'm going to watch ZNN talk about us for a while." Bax replied. "I should probably call Jen, too, tell her to find a nice gown in DC and prepare to come out here Saturday."

"Yeah, how are things going between the two of you anyway?" Harm shouted from the bathroom.

"This is the longest I've ever been in a relationship, Hammer, I think she might actually be the one." Bax said aloud and Harm felt he had to give his head a shake.

"What was that you say?" Harm shouted.

"I said that she could be the one!" Bax shouted so that Harm could hear him.

Harm stuck his head out of the bathroom. "I'm not drunk and you're not drunk right?" He asked.

"Unless you've been sneaking from the mini bar behind my back I'd say that's a correct statement, why?" Bax looked confused.

"Because I could have sworn I just heard you say that Jen was 'the one'." Harm dried his hair off with the towel as he emerged from the bathroom in the hotel supplied bathrobe.

"I did say that." Bax affirmed.

"Alright, peace in the Middle East and Ethan Baxter talking about getting married all in the same week. The second coming must be planned for Friday." Harm joked. "Just take your romantic sentimentalism into the next room while I get changed."

"Yeah, yeah." Bax groaned as he shut the hotel room door behind him.

1957 ZULU, TUESDAY

CIRAGAN PALACE

ISTANBUL, TURKEY

Gunny went arm over arm through the rippling waves of the pool. Night was the best time around here to get some swimming done, it was the only time that he wasn't running back forth between hotel rooms helping the US Government try and forge something that looked like peace. So, at night, he jumped into the pool and tried to get as many lengths in as humanly possible.

The President and the First Lady had become good friends of his over the last few years. The President more so because he was a Marine and Marines just kind of understood each other's limits. The First Lady had spent the last few months trying to set Gunny up on dates with women she knew. In the last few months he'd been out on blind dates with some attractive women, good hearted and overwhelmingly intelligent and young women who were just far too bubbly and far too young for him. He reached the other end of the pool and stopped. It really was a beautiful city, Istanbul. He leaned back on the tile wall of the pool with his arms resting on the deck, holding him up.

How did he get here? He wasn't a politician, he was a Marine and now he was the Executive White House Chief of Staff. That was one hell of a promotion and one that not too many people made. He could call up any leader in the world, any Senator or any cabinet secretary and they would field the call personally. Not to mention the pay raise that came with being the Chief of Staff to the President. That was probably a good thing though, he had needed some new suits and the off the rack stuff really didn't cut it when you were sitting down in meetings with some of the world's most important power brokers.

He heard the soft padding of feet against the granite on the pool deck and he looked down from the stars in the sky to the opposite end of the pool where the stairs were located. He saw the body of the White House Press Secretary in a pink string bikini sink slowly into the pool. He closed his eyes and gave his head a shake, they were going to have to stop having close calls like this. Though, he assumed it was fair to say that he saw her body being as it took him several seconds to actually look her in the eye.

"So, this is how you've been relaxing at night instead of going over strategy for the next days meetings?" She waded over toward him. "It has a certain appeal." She found him still starting at her breasts. "Are you quite finished?" She asked in a mock stern tone.

"Do you have a camera?" Gunny asked without looking up.

"No." She replied

"Then I'm not finished." He chuckled. "Seriously, we're in a Muslim country are you trying to volunteer for public stoning or something?"

"Loosen up a little, we're in the pool at a private hotel and it's almost ten o'clock at night. The only person who could see me is hotel staff and you and you seem to be enjoying yourself far too much to want to stone me." She giggled.

"That's true." Gunny chuckled. "We really need to stop running into each other like this. First the boy shorts in London."

"Then the towels in the bathhouse on Saturday." She smirked.

"Now bathing suits in a pool." He added slowly backing away from her. "I don't normally work this closely with anyone."

"Yeah, well, if Charlie and Morley were here the three of you would be inside playing poker with the President, Mike Bradley and Admiral Rabb."

"That's not true." He protested. "Alright, it probably is. Why aren't you upstairs with the First Lady and Harriet in your jammies watching chick flicks and eating popcorn while you bitch about men?"

"We have better things to talk about then men." She stated. "Alright, maybe not and the movie starts at eleven. By the way, the guys actually are upstairs smoking cigars and playing poker."

"There's only four other men in the delegation." Gunny answered.

"Five, the Russian President joined in the game." She corrected him.

"It's amazing the progress we've made in sixty years. Could you imagine Stalin and Truman sitting down with Nimitz and Halsey to play a game of poker?" Gunny chuckled as he hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the pool.

"No, but who would have though even fifteen years ago that the Ayatollah would be overthrown and Israel and Syria would be sitting down to sign a treaty committing both of them to strong negotiated regional security position?" She leaned over the edge of the pool. "We're working for a good White House."

"I know." Gunny dove back into the pool. Once he surfaced he let out a loud huff and looked back at her. "Race you to the stairs?"

"You're on." She replied.

0944 ZULU, SATURDAY

ISTANBUL CITY HALL

ISTANBUL, TURKEY

"The Istanbul Peace Accords have been agreed upon by all parties." The UN Secretary General announced. "My special thanks to the representatives of Egypt and the United States for their efforts in bringing the participating parties in this crisis to the table of peace. The Accords are now presented for the consent and signatures of the nations who negotiated the peace topics. Signing for the United States of America, President Nathan Ross." Nate stepped forward and sat down at the table to sign his name on the Accords. "Signing for the Armed Forces of the United States, Admiral Ethan Baxter." Bax stepped forward and picked up the pen to sign the Accords. "Signing as the witness to the legality of the American position, Vice Admiral Harmon Rabb." Finally, Harm stepped forward and signed the document.

The delegations all stood by as three representatives from every nation put their signatures on the peace accord. The crowds cheered when the President of the newly declared Democratic Republic of Iran stepped in to sign the treaty. The loudest applause came from the Turkish and Egyptian delegations who saw this move as one toward peace and stability in the region. Once the treaty was signed by all the nations who had played a role in the negotiations, the UN Secretary General put his signature on it to stipulate UN assent to the parts of the accords, such as peacekeeping, which would require its participation.

The seven national leaders and the UN Secretary General stood together for a photo op with the President of the United States in the middle, the Egyptian President and his Muslim counterparts to his left, the UN Secretary General, Russian President and Israeli Prime Minister to his right. The press had boiled the whole thing down to a few basic core elements. This conference was an American brain child, the American did most of the negotiating and Admiral Rabb had practically drafted the legal basis on which the peace now stood single-handedly but it never could have been done without the support of Egyptian President Rifaat and that at least required a solemn acknowledgement and a great deal of respect from the international community.

There was to be a large gathering that night, the great diplomatic ball wherein all the honchos would get together and tell fisherman's tales about how large a role they actually played in the creation of peace. Nate and Harm headed toward the elevator. "So, how does it feel to be the man of the hour, Mr. President?" Harm asked as the elevator doors closed.

"That's not me, I never could have done without you most of all, you drafted all the legal language and you worked over the Iranians pretty good on the legal necessity of IAEA supervision of their nuclear program." Nate admitted.

"They don't give you a Nobel for legal language." Harm watched the lights move over the elevator door.

"They won't give me one." Nate chuckled. "Between now and December 9th, some woman in Africa will open a new AIDS clinic that will save countless lives or some group in East Asia will win a campaign against Child Slave Labour in Singapore or Malaysia and they'll win it and as well they should. If they can do that, they've done more then I have."

"Peace in the Middle East is no small feat, Mr. President." Harm moved through the open elevator doors toward his hotel room.

"It's not peace, Harm, it's the absence of war. Some time in the next few months, the honeymoon from today will end and a suicide bomber will climb on a bus in Ramallah and this whole thing will be swept under the rug once people see corpses on ZNN." Nate leaned on his hotel room door, his Secret Service close by either side.

"Are you always this pessimistic?" Harm asked with a chuckle.

"I just spent a week haggling and negotiating for twenty hours a day, you're lucky I can stand up." Nate joked. "Mac gonna be here for the ball?"

"She got in an hour ago; came over on the same flight as Bud and Coates." Harm pushed open the door. "Mike Bradley coming back?"

"Nah, he needs to man the situation room this weekend. The first forty-eight hours after a peace are always the shakiest." Nate replied. "See you in the ballroom tonight?"

"Yes, Mr. President." And with that, the two men retreated into their hotel rooms.

1821 ZULU

CIRAGAN PALACE

ISTANBUL, TURKEY

The American delegation entered the ballroom together. Harm and Bax were outfitted to the nines in their Dress White uniform. Nate and Gunny had on their penguin suits and both were squirming under the tightness of the bowtie. "You two actually do look like penguins, you know that, right?" Nicole looked from her husband to his Chief of Staff as they entered the ballroom.

"You have pointed it out several times, ma'am." Gunny remarked. "It's going to take some getting used to, going to these fancy events wearing a tux instead of dress uniform."

"Tell me about it." Nate stuck a finger under his collar to try and work it in a little and counteract the starch.

"Would you two stop whining." Harm chuckled and caught a stern look from the President. "Sorry, sir." He replied, correctly remembering whom he was addressing. The second that they stepped into the ballroom, the men were pulled away by there comrades from the other countries. Gunny and Harm were busy speaking with the Russians, Bax had been pulled away to speak with the Turks and Egyptians, Nate was speaking with the Turks and now only Bud remained standing with the girls.

"I'd better go help Harm and Gunny, it's just a matter of time before the Russians begin saying things he won't understand." Mac chuckled and headed off toward her husband. She was dressed in an elegant and slightly conservative black floor length ball gown.

"I'd better go keep Ethan in line, speaking diplomatically isn't his best trait." Jen smiled and headed off to join Bax.

"What about you, Miss Anderson?" Harriet asked, looking at the White House Press Secretary.

"Oh, I don't exactly fit in around here for this kind of thing, I mean the only language I speak is English and anyone I know is already talking to someone else." Stacy rambled through an explanation.

"I'm willing to bet that this is the first time you've ever been a wallflower." Harriet toyed as they all took a seat at one of the tables.

"Yeah, well, they say there's a first time for everything." Stacy joked.

Nate moved out on to the balcony where he was soon joined by three familiar people. Nate turned away from the railing to face them. "Layla tov, gentlemen."

"Ma shelomkha, Mr. President?" Moshe answered for the group.

"Ani beseder, toda. Isn't it a little odd for the entire Mossad directorate to attend a function outside of Israel?" Nate asked.

"Odd, but not unheard of." Avi David walked over and stood next to Nate.

"We have a present for you, Nathan." This time it was Mossad Deputy Director Ben Yazi who stepped forward. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out what looked like on old worn picture. "We never documented the time you spent in Israel but for one occasion. The day that Tali was born in Tel Aviv. We were at Avi's house."

"Yes, I remember." Nate nodded. "There's a picture?"

"There is." Ben extended his arm and handed him the picture. In the back, in a corner was written 'Tel Aviv, '81'. The picture was of the four of them, they were all wearing IDF uniforms and berets. It was easy to tell that Nate was the youngest in the group but it would never have been guessed that he was under eighteen. He'd been a tall teenager and he's started shaving early so he looked like he belonged. "What you do with the picture of course is up to you but we all felt you should have it."

"Toda." Nate nodded. "Is it too much to assume that we're all still friends?"

"We're more then friends, we were brothers in arms once, that doesn't change just because our jobs do." Moshe answered. The Israelis nodded at Nate and headed back inside the ballroom. Nate followed them in and watched as Turkish President Hasim took to the microphone at the front of the room.

"In my country, we prize many of the qualities of good men and I believe that such qualities were displayed most prominently this week by our delegates. However, were if not for the efforts of one man in the last few days to put into writing and legal strengthen the agreements reached by politicians this week, we would not be here today. It is my great honour therefore to present American Vice Admiral Harmon Rabb with this Yatagan." President Hasim produced a long sword with an exquisitely curved blade.

Harm walked up to the front of the room and took the sword when it was handed to him. "Thank you, President Hasim." Harm bowed politely. He examined the blade quickly and found some etching in Arabic script along the backside of the blade. "What does it say?"

"It's a quote from Lawrence of Arabia." Hasim smiled. "He says 'I loved you, so I drew these tides of men into my hands and wrote my will across the sky in stars'. May it always remind you that the ultimate will of mankind must always be peace."

"It will." Harm answered and shook President Hasim's hand. There was a round of applause led by the Americans in the room who were whistling, hooting and clapping collectively as Harm walked back over to them.

"Well done, sir." Bud smiled as his old friend.

"Just keep it out of the kid's reach, Harm." Mac playfully elbowed her husband in the ribs.


	24. Parenthood

"Heading out, Uncle Nate!" Helene called into the living room of the White House residence as she went for the front door.

"Hold up there, young lady." Nate called as he bounded off the couch over to the door. He'd rewarded himself with an early Friday night, being as he both lived and worked at the White House it wasn't that big a deal. Helene let out a huff; her uncle had taken on a very stereotypically paternal role with her. Aunt Nicole was a little easier to negotiate with but the President was the final authoritative voice on a lot of things and that could be tough. "You're not going out like that." Nate said plainly, after seeing what his niece was wearing.

"What's wrong with it?" She whined.

"Your skirt's too short, your top is at least three sizes too small and you've got enough makeup on to make me think you're doing a commercial for some makeup company." It took Nate a second to realize just how incredibly stereotypical that sounded.

"Aunt Nicole!" Helene whined and Nicole came walking into the living room from the boy's rooms, having just put them down for the night.

"What's going on in here?" She asked, standing next to her husband, arms crossed.

"It's the senior dance for the Grade Eights at my school and Uncle Nate says I have to go change." She protested.

"I'm afraid he's right, Helene." Nicole added, she would agree that Nate could be a little overprotective at times but there disagreements would be discussed in private later, they always stood by each other's decisions when it came to the kids. The thirteen year old huffed all the way up the stairs to her bedroom. Nate and Nicole took this moment to speak with Helene's Secret Service team. "Alright, have her home by eleven, make sure you've got her in your sights at all time." Nicole instructed them.

"Honey, they know that part." Nate chuckled. "Here's the important part, there's this new guy she likes; I think his name is Dink."

"Dirk, honey, the boy's name is Dirk." Nicole corrected her husband.

"Anyway, if at any point you're forced to make a decision between killing the boyfriend and not killing the boyfriend; kill the boyfriend." Nate coached and everyone had a good laugh.

"Alright, I'm ready!" She announced as she marched back down the stairs, this time in a much more sensible top and jeans.

"Good, let me see your Secret Service locator." Nicole demanded and her niece produced it from her jeans pocket. "Keep it on you at all times."

"And have fun." Nate wrapped an arm around his wife and smiled at his niece.

"Wow, I didn't have to here a long drug and alcohol speech? You guys are cool." Helene smiled as gave her aunt a big hug.

"I don't have to give you one, I have the best chaperones in the world, the United States Secret Service. So, if you cross any lines, I'll find out about when you get home." Nate smiled manically. "Like I said, have fun."

"You know, Uncle Nate, you can be a real kill joy sometimes." Helene crossed her arms and glared at her uncle.

"I know, but it's oh so much fun." Nate laughed. He reached down and gave her a big hug. "Have fun, Hellcat."

2330 ZULU

WILL ROGERS PARK

MCLEAN, VIRGINIA

A few of the boys on the team had been a little upset that both of their coaches were women. Of course it had only taken about five seconds for Beverly Chegwidden to discover from her son that this was because 'girls were icky' and hence they 'suck at t-ball'. Arleigh Chegwidden was a natural athlete, even for a six year-old. The kid had a cannon for an arm, no doubt a trait that he inherited from his father. Of course, in this sport, the ball was hit off a large rubber tee so that didn't really make a damn bit of difference.

Sasha Rabb was the biggest tomboy on the team. The girly girls mainly stood in the outfield talking about television and which boys on the were 'less icky' then the other boys on the team. Sasha Rabb stood at shortstop, hunched over in a crouch pounding the middle of her glove fiercely with her fist. She was 'cool' at least to most of the guys on the team because she could drink more Gatorade then any of them, or because she could actually beat video games or maybe it was because she could actually hit to right field.

"Hey, Sash!" Arleigh Chegwidden called from second base.

"Yeah, A.C?" Sash turned to face her friend.

"Let's get the double play on this one, I want to get up to bat!" He shouted.

"You got it!" She smiled and pounded her mitt one more time. The kid from the other team who was up to bat whacked a ground ball right at Sasha who picked it up and tossed it to Arleigh who tagged the bag at second and tossed the ball to first base for the double play.

"I called that one." He smiled as they headed over to their bench.

"I helped." She grinned.

"Alright, Arleigh and Sasha, you two are up to bat first and after you we've got Chad and Theodore." Mac looked up from the clipboard.

"What is it we always say, team?" Beverly hunched over so that she could look all the little kids in the eye.

"It's not about whether you win or lose, it's whether or not you have fun." The kids all droned in opposition to their coach's enthusiasm.

"But it's really hard to have fun when you lose." Arleigh joked from the other side of the bench as he put on his batting glove. He checked his helmet before heading up to the plate.

"Go Arleigh!" Sasha shouted from the bench and the team began to clap. Arleigh Chegwidden gripped the bat so tight that his knuckles went white and he swung through on the ball sending it passed the third baseman into shallow left field.

"Alright, Sasha, you're up." Mac coached and her daughter eagerly stepped up to the plate she gave a few practice swing and tapped the inside arch of her shoe just like a pro. Sasha was there team's greatest weapon. None of the little boys in the league like playing against girls but they hated playing against girls who could so effortlessly intimidate them and kick their ass. Sasha swung the bat back and ground the rubber handle into her palms.

"Come on, Sasha, bring me home!" Arleigh called from second. Sasha lifted her lead foot and powered forward with all the force that her tiny frame could muster, sending the ball flying into right field. "That a girl!" Arleigh shouted as he made a break neck pace for home. Arleigh beat the throw to home plate by sliding in courageously and catching the plate with his fingertips. Sasha made it to third base and stopped to catch her breath.

Arleigh was the popular kid on the team. Well, as popular as you could be at six, he was the de facto Team Captain because he would make an sacrifice to help the team win. She was a tomboy and while technically they saw her as 'one of the guys' once in a while she would be reminded by the immature utterances of one of her team-mates that she was "just a girl".

0637 ZULU

BEACH OUTSIDE MIRAMAR

SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

Captain John Ricker sat with a few other Marine pilots around a bonfire pit on the beach. Johnny-Reb was the natural people person after all. He had on that same old straw cowboy hat with the sides curled up and his black acoustic guitar sitting in his lap. A few of the Marine Squadron leaders and a few of the Navy jocks from North Island normally got together on Friday nights around here and went trolling at the cantinas along the beach for beach bunnies. Then they'd normally have Johnny pull out his guitar and favour them and their new, normally very blonde, companions with a few songs and that normally worked to provide female companionship for the night.

Johnny was halfway through a tune when he looked down the beach toward the base and saw Captain Anna Ross coming toward him wearing an orange bikini top and a pair of cut off Daisy Duke shorts. She was easy on the eyes, Johnny knew that, hell, he'd told her so on any number of occasions; always following that opinion with a smile and a tip of his hat. It was seeing her the way that she had been for the last few months that were the hardest on his self control. She was so attractive and so soft and after everything that had happened with Sergei in the last year, so broken. Johnny quickly finished the song and called her over to join them.

He hadn't picked up anyone at the bar, he hadn't wanted to. Despite the sly, anti-hero kind of image that he tried to portray he was really a good guy. He just couldn't bear the burden of being the good guy all the time, so, once in a while he did indulge in the behaviour which had shaped his reputation and earned him the nickname of 'Reb'. Anna sat down on the log next to Johnny and smiled. He really was a good friend and it didn't hurt her that he was built like a Texas Cowboy ought to be built. He was broad shouldered and 6'5" which made him stand in stark contrast to her lithe 5'5" form.

"Gentlemen, this is Captain Anna Ross, USMC." Johnny introduced. "Anna, this is they guys."

"Hey guys." She waved timidly and leaned over her knees.

"You want a beer?" Johnny asked as he pawed through the cooler.

"Sure." She nodded and caught the beer when Johnny tossed it to her. "So this is what you guys do on Fridays?"

"Well, this isn't all we do." One of the other guys answered as he shamelessly eyed the airhead sitting next to him.

"Easy up, there Lieutenant Commander." Johnny joked as he took another swig of beer.

"Ah, ease up yourself, Reb, give us another song." One of the other men goaded.

"How about a little country, Reb, it's summer, there's a good moon out tonight and she's still hotter then a whore in church." The Lieutenant Commander urged his friend.

Johnny chuckled and brought his guitar back up over his shoulder. "Alright, I'll see what I remember here." Johnny laughed a little more. He plucked a few intro notes before he began to strum the chords and sing.

_I was dying in that small town_

_Dreams of heading southbond_

_So, I hitched down I-65_

_I climbed into her Trans-am_

_An hour below Birmingham_

_She was headed home_

_And I was there for the ride_

_We started talking nonsense_

_She was laughing at my accent_

_We wound up on the Alabama shore_

_There was magic in the night air_

_A gulf breeze in her blonde hair_

_That's what my soul was searching for_

_Summer moonlight, southern daughter_

_She led me down to the water _

_As we lay on that cool white sand_

_I was born again in Dixieland_

Johnny continued to strum and sing his way through the song. Anna smiled widely, Johnny so rarely seemed to have this kind of fun, and it was good to see him doing something he liked to do other then pilot a Hornet.

_We drank from a mason jar_

_Underneath a blanket of stars_

_I said, do you believe this was meant to be?_

_She told me_

_I believe in front porch swings_

_The songs that the crickets sing_

_And I believe you belong down here with me_

_Summer moonlight, southern daughter_

_She led me down to the water_

_As we lay on that cool white sand_

_I was born again in Dixieland_

He never really ignored how beautiful she was. He'd known her since plebe year, the fact that she was beautiful enough to be able to knock guys over with a feather was probably what made him talk to her in the first place. Since then, he'd gotten to know who she was and in that time, he'd been able to list all the reasons why they would never work. Never being able to actually have her didn't seem to matter when they could share moments like this where they just found a silent acknowledgement in each other's eyes.

_We watched the twilight fade_

_There by the ocean waves_

_I knew I'd found my place_

_Lost in her embrace_

_I was baptized in her arms_

_Summer moonlight, southern daughter_

_She led me down to the water_

_As we lay on that cool white sand_

_I was born again in Dixieland_

"That was real purdy, Reb." The Lieutenant Commander said in his Mississippi drawl.

"Yeah, real pretty." Anna whispered tenderly in his ear.

1502 ZULU

SERGEI'S APARTMENT

SOUTH OF ROCK CREEK PARK

Sergei and Tamila sat on his couch with Sergei's nephew Tommy. The amount of consecutive times this kid could watch _The Jungle Book_ was unholy. He was still a toddler with now concept that his 'terrible twos' should have ended two years ago. It had been good having Tamila around for the last six weeks. Fourth of July was coming up and he was flying Marine One now so that made things a little easier when it came to staying in DC.

Dating the Mossad attaché to the Israeli embassy had earned him a certain degree of good natured ribbing from his fellow Marines. The joke that "your girlfriend can kick your ass, Rabb" had made its rounds. It had taken Sergei a while to point out to the guys that she could probably kick their ass too. The thing was that knowing the intelligence attaché to any embassy in Washington wasn't particularly tough, or even something that a lot of countries avoided having others find out. The Station Chief was the more important position anyway.

Eventually, Sergei had to scoop Tommy up, take him into the guest bedroom and drop him down on the bed. As much as his niece was a daddy's little princess, Tommy was Mac's little Marine hellraiser and Sergei could swear that he'd never seen a four year-old prouder to hold such a title. The kid had tried to instigate several food-fights at dinner including one occasion where he scooped some peanut butter on to a spoon and flung it across the room, hitting Sergei in the back of the head. Tamila had proceeded to laugh her head off as the peanut butter slid down Sergei's neck toward his back.

Now, the little future Marine had powered down for the night and was slumbering peacefully on the large guest bed. Sergei plopped down on the couch next to his girlfriend. "I don't have the energy for kids." He groaned, his tiredness making his faded Russian accent heavier.

"On the contrary, I think you'd make a good dad in the future, but I agree that you're not ready for it yet." Tamila took his hand. "Give yourself a couple years first."

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not." Sergei chuckled as he rubbed his neck to work out a kink.

"Well, I suppose I could be a complete vamp, wink my eyelash at you and tell you to come and find me when you make a decision, but I'm not going to do that." She adjusted herself on the couch.

"What _are_ you going to do?" He asked, chancing a coy smile.

"I'm going to have you turn around so I can rub your neck." She coach as she made him turn and lean back against her. "There now, don't you feel better?"

"Oh, I feel something alright." Sergei joked with a smile.

"I think you need to get over yourself, Rabb." Tamila chuckled as she kissed his cheek.

2312 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Trish and Frank were visiting again. Harm liked it when his mom and Frank visited, being on the other coast, they only got to see their grandkids so often. They had gotten into town earlier this weekend and Trish had something very difficult to discuss with her son. She felt that while Frank and Mac were in the kitchen talking about Sasha's baseball game, she could steal her son for a few seconds. "Mom, what's going on?"

"Harmon, there's something that I really need to talk to you about." Trish could feel herself tearing up already. She could see the panic in her son's eyes.

"What is it, mom?" Harm put his hands on his mother's shoulders.

"Dear, Frank had his annual physical a few weeks ago. The doctors found something but they wanted to run a few more tests to be sure. They did all sorts of scans for his head, some I'd never even heard of before." Trish let out a heavy breath. "He's got Primary Progressive Multiple Sclerosis. He started feeling these things a few weeks ago, I just thought it was aging but when he couldn't move his right hand I should have known it wasn't a muscle spasm."

Harm gave his mom a big hug. "What did the doctors say about his prognosis?" He asked in a whisper of a voice. Frank had been like a father to him, hell, he was the only dad Harm had for most of his life and he was the only grandfather that his kids knew.

"Because this type of the disease moves so fast and because Frank's older, they don't think he has much more then six or seven years at the outside. Of course, that's assuming that the disease development is fairly early. It could be three years for all they know." She began to cry into her son's shoulder. "Oh Harmon, I don't want to lose him too."

"I know, mom." Harm tightened his hug.

"I just don't know that I can watch him deteriorate and know that there's nothing I can do to stop it." She continued to cry.

"Mom, you're not going to go through this all alone. Come stay here with us, Mac loves you, the kids love you and that way both you and Frank will have people around you to love and support you." Harm moved back a little.

"Harmon, you're such a good son." Trish gave her son a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I know." Harm tossed out a joke and got a small laugh. "I'll talk it over with him, but he certainly won't like to feel as though he's imposing on you, dear."

"He won't be, mom. Family's what's important at a time like this. That's what Grams would have said." Harm and Trish walked back toward the kitchen door. They both remembered the late Sarah Rabb for a moment. The woman who had been so youthful and hearty all of her ninety years had passed a few years ago, peacefully in her sleep.

"I know, dear, just clear it with that lovely wife of yours, the soon to be Professor Rabb. She may love us, but you'll still get hang for making unilateral decisions. Lord knows, I used to hate it when your father did that." Trish chuckled lightly as they opened the door to the kitchen.

"Hey guys, just in time, dinner's ready." Mac looked up from the plates of spaghetti and smiled. Harm nodded and rubbed his eyes. "Harm? Honey, what's wrong?" Harm just walked over and gave Mac a big hug.

"We're going to need to have a talk when dinner's over." He whispered in her ear and Mac could tell how serious this was. She just nodded and lightly stroked his back.

0229 ZULU

THE J SPOT

FOGGY BOTTOM, WASHINGTON DC

"What exactly are we doing here?" Gunny shouted over the noise in the bar.

"Come on, Gunny, are you telling me that you'd prefer to only hang out with your co-workers _at_ work?" Stacy shouted right back as the two of them leaned back against the bar. "Besides, you haven't laughed until you've heard Morley and Charlie do their Blues Brothers impression at karaoke night." The two of them looked up at the stage to see their two friends, fairly well disguised in the black suits, black hats and black sunglasses of their costume Charlie's lanky beanpole-esque frame countered by Morley who was shorter and sturdier.

Gunny signalled the bartender for another beer and turned back to face the guys at the front. The J Spot was one of the few places left in DC that let you smoke without making you feel like a fascist. Gunny pulled a cigar out of his pocket and stuck it in his teeth. "Where'd you get that?" Stacy pointed to the very expensive cigar in Gunny's teeth.

"President gave me a box as a birthday present." Gunny answered as he pulled new Zippo lighter out of his jacket.

"And that?" She asked.

"This one was from the Secretary of Defence." Gunny chuckled.

"Well, aren't you just the big Washington player, in less then a year you went from a Marine Master Gunnery Sergeant at Quantico to one of the most powerful men in Washington, accepting gifts of expensive Dominican cigars from the President." Stacy smiled widely.

"Speaking of presents." Gunny returned his hand to his inside jacket pocket and produced an envelope. "My secretary informed me that the birthday of the White House Press Secretary was tomorrow and she suggested that I make the appropriate preparations. I asked what she meant; she said 'go out and get her a frickin' card!' So, I went out and got you a frickin' card."

Stacy tore open the envelope and pulled out the card. True to the stereotypical male form, the card was humorous and juvenile and when she opened it to the inside, a gift certificate fell out into her lap. "And a gift? Well you must be in a generous mood." She laughed. "What happened? You were at the mall and someone called you to tell you that a tree fell on the Republican Minority Leader and in a flight of fancy, you splurged on a birthday present?"

"First off, unlike most members of this administration, I don't consider Republican to be a dirty word and secondly, no, it wasn't some outside act of insanity. Where I'm from, you don't give a lady a birthday card and not give her a birthday gift." Gunny answered.

"Hey, I don't consider Republican a dirty word. Both of my parents were Republicans." Stacy protested as she nudged Gunny with her shoulder.

"How did you end up as a Democrat?" Gunny was trying to manoeuvre the barstool into a comfortable position.

"When you grow up around the Old Boy's Club, you learn that things like the ERA and the Global Gag Order aren't negotiable issues in women's rights and that's what makes Democratic women, Democratic. That's also why there was such a large gender gap in our favour last time. While we broke just more then even on male voters, we thumped the Republicans when it came to dealing with women's issues." Stacy grinned. "No more politics, let's just watch the guys perform."

Up on the stage, Morley and Charlie took their places in front of the microphones and the trumpet intro to Sam and Dave's _Soul Man_ began to play.

0249 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm and Frank sat out on the porch watching the sun tuck in behind the trees in the backyard. "She told you?" Frank asked as he took a sip of lemonade.

"She told me." Harm gave a nod. "How long have you been having symptoms?"

"Couple of months." Frank hung his head.

"Why didn't you tell her?" Harm asked, not looking at his stepfather. "Why didn't you go to a doctor?"

"What could they do, Harm?" Frank took another drink. "How many ways can you tell a seventy-four year old man that if he makes his eightieth birthday, he won't live much beyond that?" He let out a heavy sigh. "I've lived a long life, Harm and we all die eventually, I just know approximately how long I've got left is all."

"And that doesn't worry you?" Harm asked, a note of sharpness to his tone.

"Well, I'm not doing cartwheels over it if that's what you're asking." Frank retorted. "No, I'm not thrilled with the news, but I suspect we all have to face our mortality at some point in our life. I mean, you had to do it every time you launched off a carrier deck, not to mention countless of other times at JAG."

"So, I talked with Mac, she's given her blessing to you and mom coming to live out here." Harm hunched forward.

"Harm, don't do that to your kids. They deserve better then to see me deteriorate in front of them." Frank argued.

"What they deserve, is as much time with their grandparents as humanly possible. I wasted a lot of time trying to hate you because you weren't my dad, I regret that a lot because I never realized the father I actually had with you around. My kids deserve time with you, Frank." Harm took a sip of his drink. "We all do."

"I guess there isn't much room to fight here. You and Mac have come down on your mother's side and Lord knows Trish can be some awful stubborn when she gets an idea in her head." Frank laughed.

"Mac says that she and I are a lot alike in that way." Harm jibed. "Says that's why we need you and Mac around, so someone can mediate the crisis."

"Mac's got a pretty hard head herself." Frank joked and her and Harm shared a good laugh.

"Don't let her hear you say that." Harm warned. "I'd never hear the end of it, she thinks all we do is sit out here and poke jokes at her and mom."

"You mean that isn't all we do?" Frank played.

"Well there was that time that we laid the patio stones." Harm pointed out.

"You know, I almost forgot all about that one." Frank chortled. "You want to head back inside?"

"Yeah." Harm nodded and the two men got up from their seats on the porch. Harm put a hand on his stepfather's back. "It'll be good to have you around."

"Yeah, the golfing out here doesn't compare with California though." Frank lamented.

"Well, that's true." Harm conceded as he opened the sliding door.

2312 ZULU

THE EAST WING

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

"Grandma Ross?" Helene sat down on the couch. "What can you tell me about my dad?"

"What would you like to know?" Eileen asked, this was the first time she'd come face to face with Preston's only child.

"Just whatever you can tell me. I don't know much about him. I mean, Aunt Nicole didn't know him all that well and Uncle Nate is kinda busy running the country so he doesn't get a lot of time to talk. I don't see Uncle Stephen or Aunt Beverly too much and Aunt Anna lives on the other side of the country." Helene sighed. "I just want to know where I came from."

"Well, I'll see what I can tell you. Your father was my first child, I was still going through school when I had him and the General, your grandfather, was supporting us on a Marine Lieutenant's salary and how we ever did it is beyond me. He was a good boy, always did as he was told. He used to salute your grandfather whenever Jack entered the room. He was handsome, one would say in that kind of rogue way and an excellent football player in high school. He graduated from Annapolis as a Midshipman-Lieutenant and his first combat tour was an assignment to Lebanon in 1983." Eileen Ross took a breath.

"His first assignment and they sent him into combat?" The young woman had her eyes wide.

"They sure did. Your father didn't care though, he wanted it, I think he volunteered for it after the barracks bombing. After Lebanon, he went into Panama along with your uncle in 1989." The two women moved closer together.

"Weren't you scared, to have two of your sons in a war zone?" Helene asked.

"Terrified. Your grandfather was Commandant of the Marine Corps so I was here in Washington, unable to do anything about the situation. They got home safe. Then in 1991, they both went to the Persian Gulf for Desert Storm. That was where your dad got shot." Eileen paused for a second. "A few miles from the airport in Kuwait City. His platoon got surprised by a few stragglers from the Republican guard and your dad took a bullet to his spine. That's why he couldn't walk."

"Why doesn't Uncle Nate like talking about it?" Helene asked.

"Because he thinks he missed the shot. He was able to shoot another man in the band of guerrillas before your father was shot. He doesn't like to talk about it, the whole thing is unpleasant." Eileen veered off.

"That last part, that's exactly what Uncle Nate says when I ask him. Are they very much alike, my dad and Uncle Nate?" Helene chanced. "I don't mean to compare them, he's just the only man in my life who's ever really been in my life."

"They were a lot alike in a lot of ways. Both of them had a strong sense of honour, of dignity of character. But in a lot of way they were very different. Your father was always the brave and valiant, first to fight kind of warrior whereas your uncle is more cerebral, more hesitant. I used to liken them to two characters from _Hamlet_. Your dad was Laertes and your uncle is Horatio." She chuckled. "Which is kind of ironic if you consider how popular the name 'Horatio' is in our family."

"Thanks, grandma." Helene gave her grandma a big hug.

"No problem, sweetie." Eileen replied.


	25. Moments of Perspective

August rolled around. The Fourth of July had been very pleasant and the G8 summit in Bath, England had been an eye opening diplomatic experience in ass kissing and bad golfing. The news from Afghanistan was getting better everyday. The US Marines along with members of the British and Canadian Armies had secured the western border with Iran and were trying to cloister in around Taliban and Al Qaeda strongholds in the southern province. On July 28th, Nate signed the National Security Executive Order 14788 which prohibited the taking of any future terrorists as prisoners of war. The US Marines and Army soldiers on the ground had been given a kill on confirmation of status order by the President.

There was a good reason for it. Nate and AJ Chegwidden had spent most of a night arguing the legal grounds for the order but the basic premise was that a) this was a declared war and (b) the terrorists they were fighting weren't an organized military of any nation so they weren't subject to POW rules and if you didn't take them as a POW, you didn't have to worry about it. The Canadians and the Brits were still taking prisoners but the Americans were refusing to take them into American custody. The thinking behind this strategy was the only way they were going to win this war was to kill everyone on the other side who was determined to fight it.

"Mr. President," Gunny burst through the door into the oval, "have you see Al-Jazeera."

"No, why are they running Qaddafi's latest sitcom?" Nate looked up from the latest report from OMB.

"No, sir, but they have Senator Maher's son on." Gunny stopped hard in front of the President's desk. "He's been kidnapped."

"Senator Ron Maher? As in the Republican Minority Leader, that Senator Maher?" Nate gave his eyes a quick rub. "What is his son? Marines? Army? Navy? Air Force?"

"Does it matter, sir?" Gunny asked.

"Not really, but I'd like to know which of my Joint Chiefs are going to be the most up in arms so that I can send in the appropriate special ops team." Nate answered as he threw on his suit jacket and headed with Gunny toward the Sit Room.

"Sir, might I make a suggestion?" Gunny chanced.

"You're Chief of Staff, Gunny, that's what you're paid for." Nate adjusted his collar and tie.

"Have Langley do this, the Director is pretty good about keeping a lid on these things and his best wet team is pretty damn good." Gunny and the President passed the Sit Room Watch Commander on their way in.

"Pretty damn good or pretty damn brutal?" Nate asked as he sat down in his chair.

"Both." Clayton Webb emerged out of the shadows.

"Are we torturing again, Clayton? I thought I told you to stop that when we had our little talk back in January." Nate turned to face the CIA Director and lost the edge of brevity. "Are you torturing people?"

"No, we can't take prisoners remember?" Webb toyed with his pen. "In the last few months, we've killed half the major cell leaders in Afghanistan; we've executed half the ones who remain. We've staged incursions into Pakistan to find Bin Laden and Zawahiri. What are the orders if we do catch Bin Laden, Mr. President?"

"Shoot the son of a bitch." Nate ordered. "I'm not about to give the son of a bitch the trial he never gave another living soul. Add a little irony if you could, Clayton, when the time comes. Do two things for me Clayton."

"Anything, Mr. President." Webb nodded.

"Make sure it's a woman who shoots him and make his death as disgraceful and embarrassing as it can get in an Islamic culture. I want the name Bin Laden to be the source of mockery and laughter in the Middle East for the next fifty years, hell, the next century if we can make it bad enough." Nate could feel the rage building. "Plant the rumours, make sure there's no hard evidence linking us to it, but plant rumours and make sure they spread. I want every extremist in the region to know that there is a fate worse then death and that I will visit it upon them if they decide to fuck with us again."

"You're starting to sound like a Republican, Mr. President." A voice came from behind Nate. Nate got up from his chair and walked over to the Senator.

"Good to see you, Ron." Nate shook his hand. "How's your wife holding up?"

"As well as can be expected." The Minority Leader nodded. "You're serious about this hardliner approach to Al Qaeda?"

"Only way to win the game is when everyone plays by the same rules." Nate answered. "They don't want to play by mine, so, I'll beat them at theirs. Ron, we're going to do everything to get your son back."

"Short of negotiating with a terrorist, right, Mr. President." The Minority Leader took a seat at the table. "I know my son; he would sacrifice his freedom to prevent his country from dignifying such thugs with negotiations."

"That's because he had a good teacher, Ron." Nate paid his colleague a compliment; it was times like this that partisan attitudes were put aside. "I was just about to hear General Scheuer explain why I should send in an Army Ranger team as opposed to a CIA wet team."

"Yes, sir." The General got up out of his chair. "We've got Army CID and of course CIA assets on the ground in Eastern Afghanistan. They're intelligence networks have advanced with the recent military concentration in the area. We've got about a forty-eight hour window to operate in if previous experience is anything to go by. So, I recommend that we have a standing order ready to launch an assault once we have confirmed intelligence. The Rangers are trained in this kind of exercise. They'll be in and out faster then it takes most guys to take a piss and they'll shoot every bastard in the place."

"Lucas, make it bad. I mean bullet-riddled kind of bad. Quick and clean doesn't cut it any more. No head shots, make the bastards bleed out." Nate instructed. "This is Psy Ops 101, people. The easiest way to win a war is take away your opponents desire to fight. The best way to do that in our case, is to give them a reason to fear us, we have to be inside their heads and they have to believe that we're two steps ahead of them because we are. They don't fear death because they want martyrdom. They'll never fear death, but we can sure as hell make them fear the way they die. Ron," Nate turned to face the Senate's ranking Republican, "why don't you call your family and have them stay here at the White House tonight? That way when I get updates, you get updates. Mi casa est su casa as it were. No politics tonight, just me doing what I can for a man I respect."

"Thank you, Mr. President." Senator Maher nodded. "I'll go make the call."

"Just tell me when, I'll have Secret Service go pick them up." Nate answered.

2344 ZULU

PENTAGON OPNAVS OFFICE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"Harm, are you seeing this?" Sturgis pointed the remote control at the TV.

"You mean the son of the Senate Minority Leader on ZNN? Why do you think I just broke all manner of traffic laws to get here?" Harm tossed his cover on the hat rack. "Did you call Barris?"

"I called. He shouted. I saluted. I hung up." Sturgis didn't tear his eyes off the TV. "One of us needs to get over to the Sit Room to brief the President. Admiral Barris is visiting the _USS Vandegrift,_ and the VCNO is still pacing the floor in Yokosuka."

"Odds and evens?" Harm ventured.

"Nah, you go, you've got experience with avionics and special ops. That's the kind of thing they're going to need. I'll stay here and hold down the fort." Sturgis and Harm took their covers off the rack and headed back out into the Pentagon. "Lieutenant Maher is Army, isn't he?"

"Graduated West Point sixteen months ago." Harm answered. "Had a chance to look over his service file in the car on the way over. Volunteers for every mission, always the first into the breech."

"You're not going to spout off the quote from the _Bridges at Toko-Ri_ that you used to quote at Keeter, Bax and I until were blue in the face are you?" Sturgis stopped at the door.

"No, I'm not." Harm chuckled. "This has got to work, Sturgis, this push in Afghanistan to reclaim the countryside for the Karzai government it could work but it could be like sending Marines into the DMZ in 1965. We know how to fight urban wars in Kandahar and in Kabul and in Jalalabad but we move out into the eastern desert and who knows what's going to happen? We could be rescuing a Ryan Maher every week."

"Look at it this way, Harm if we can rescue him, we can kill the terrorists who are holding him." Sturgis leaned against the door. "The only way we can win this war is to make it too costly for the other side to fight it. We've got the Russians cracking down on arms dealers, the Iranians choking their ideological and monetary support, all we have to do is limit their last resource."

"People?" Harm ventured.

"Harm, the reason we spent all that money on Psy Ops in the Cold War wasn't wasted. What we're fighting right now is rampant illogical psychology and the only way to fight rampant illogical psychology is with your own brand of rampant illogical psychology. We're pushing here and we're pushing hard because the guy sitting at the button panel is a Democrat and they look at Clinton and they look at Carter and they think he's going to be hands off. That he's going to take his time and be master of his own house."

"What are you, taking politics lessons from your wife?" Harm turned back to face his friend. "Sturgis, ours is the business of arms."

"I know the quotes, Harm. We're talking about real change in the first truly international combat mission since 1953. This is real and we're fighting to win finally." Sturgis rebuked.

"Sturgis, this goes against every last boundary in international law about fighting a war. There's a black area and there's a white area and inch by inch, we're moving toward the black area." Harm argued.

"Which is better losing a war, an important war, one man at a time. Harm, we are the biggest superpower in the world, we have the might and the resources to do just about anything militarily and once in a while we have to understand that terrible means reap a justified end. So, if it means using Napalm or phosphorus grenades against Al Qaeda to get them to stop. Or if it means shooting terrorists rather then using American tax dollars to lock them up, then lets do it and the Europeans can scream and bitch but the fact is that they would rather this happen to a couple of radical cave-dwelling Pashtuns east of Kandahar then three hundred people on the Paris Metro."

"At what cost?" Harm pressed. "Our security at what cost? I don't think the Founding Fathers would agree with you."

"Yeah, because all those British Loyalists who were tarred and feathered during the revolution or executed did it to themselves, right, Harm?" Sturgis argued. "This isn't a permanent thing, Harm, it's a way to end a war. To make sure that this doesn't become Vietnam."

"You really think we can stop that?" Harm asked.

"I think we'd feel worse if we never tried." Sturgis and Harm realized that carrying this argument further was pointless. Harm just nodded and headed for the car.

0237 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

The Maher family came in and sat around the television in the living room. Lily Maher and her daughters had been very quiet and very solemn. Nicole and Helene had taken to trying to comfort the family and were even sitting up with them. President Ross and Senator Maher stood on the Truman balcony. "We'll get him back, Ron." Nate tried to assure his friend.

"D'you ever wonder what your parents were going through when you were in Panama or Kuwait?" Senator Maher asked. "I mean, you were on the ground, observing radio silence, miles from a command centre, maybe even behind enemy lines, did you ever wonder what your mom was thinking? What your sisters were going through?"

"Yeah, it's about every fifth thought that goes through your head and every thought pattern leads back to it." Nate paused. "My dad got captured near the end of his fourth tour in Nam. When he found out, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Admiral Moorer himself called my mother and told him that not only was he going to make sure he got my dad out, he was going to come to Bethlehem and have a beer with my dad. I was eight, my brother was fifteen, my older sister was twelve and my mom was pregnant. We had no one we could turn to, all my uncles were on the ground in Nam, except there was my grandfather."

"Is there a point to this story?" Senator Maher asked.

"Yes, the point is that, what's going through his mind right now is that he hopes that there is someone with his family who can help them through this. For me, when my dad was a POW, it was my grandfather, the very stereotype of an aged warrior. Your family has you." Nate reached back for the bottle of scotch. "You're a good strong leader, the leader of a national political party and despite our political differences on any range of issues; you're not as scary or out of the intellectual loop and in ideological right field as some members of your party which in my book makes you an incredible man."

"And you're a guy who is younger then ninety-two members of the Senate and despite that, you're able to command the respect of everyone in the country and it's not because of the office you hold but rather the decisions that you make." The Senator bowed his head. "Do you think Ryan will be okay?"

"I think that your son volunteered for West Point, he volunteered for the infantry and the dangerous duty assignments. I think there's a resiliency in his spirit that the other side won't be able to kill no matter what they do to him and for that you should be incredibly proud, Ron." Nate leaned back against the doors to the balcony. "I also know from experience that no on is the same after one of these missions that they were before them. When he comes home, he's not going to be the same man. Sure, there are parts of him you'll recognize. He'll still smile when he sees you, still laugh at the same jokes, cry at the same tragedies but he'll be quieter, he'll be more reserved. He'll be okay, Ron, but he won't be the same."

"I was never in combat, you know? Never went to Nam, never volunteered for the Navy or the Air Force after the war, no one in his mother's family ever served. You know what he told me when he got accepted to West Point?" The older Republican asked.

"No." Nate shook his head.

"He said I was the reason he joined up. He said I had instilled in him so much of what it was to be an American, to have pride in this country and to serve this country that there really never was another option." Senator Maher's eyes were beginning to cloud with tears. "It's times like that, when you think you've done something right as a parent."

"It's the hope of experiencing times like that that makes me want to be a good parent." Nate admitted as he handed the Senator a glass.

"Do you ever worry, about your kids joining the Marines? I mean you were one, your dad, your grandfather, most of your uncles, two of your siblings; I imagine if I cut you, you'd bleed a few pints of Marine green before we saw any red. You have to know there's a good chance that they will." The Senator's hand shook slightly as the President poured the drink.

"I know there is and I hope if my boys join the Marines, that Annapolis will have trained them well enough, that their training will have prepared them in such a manner as they will be able to handle themselves in whatever situation they encounter but hell yes I worry." Nate poured his own drink.

"What about your niece, don't you worry she'll join the Marines?" The Senator ventured.

"Yeah, but that's for a whole different list of reasons." Nate joked. "Mostly because I remember what kind of guys my fellow Marines were in our early twenties."

"Sirs?" Gunny came out on to the balcony. "General Fitzpatrick just reported back to me. Two things, first ZNN is running the story on loop and since you already know that, they've got options for extraction strategy and concrete evidence on where he's being held." Gunny gave the blue folder under his arm a tap.

"Let's get to it, then." Nate smacked his palms together. "Admiral Barris is in the Atlantic and the VCNO is in Pearl, so who's in the Sit Room from the OpNavs office?"

"Vice Admiral Rabb, sir." Gunny nodded.

"That's good." Senator Maher nodded. "He's a good man, did that work with you in Istanbul back in June."

"Yeah." Nate nodded and the three of them headed for the Sit Room.

0300 ZULU

THE SITUATION ROOM

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

Nate sat at the head of the conference table and put all of the military brass at ease, they took their seats. "What are our options, Fitzy?" Nate turned to General Fitzpatrick.

"Well, sir, they're holding Lieutenant Maher and two other members of his platoon just northwest of Kandahar. The Canadians and the Brits both have assets in the region and they'll let us use their base to bring the soldiers back but they're not going to go after them. The SEAL teams are too far out of range, same problem with the Air Force Commandos. This comes down to Army Rangers or Force Recon Marines." General Fitzpatrick moved up to the LCD image of Afghanistan on the screen. "The Rangers are two clicks further away but they're closer to medical attention upon return. They've also been prepping for this mission since the abduction happened."

"Send in the Army Rangers." Nate replied. "Have we gotten ransom demands from the terrorists?"

"Boiler plate kind of stuff came in an hour ago." Webb replied. "Demanding withdrawal of American Imperialist Forces from Afghanistan and the Arabian Peninsula."

"Imperialist Forces? You'd think they'd be a little more creative." Nate rolled his eyes. "Well, send in our 'imperialist forces' to blow their fundamentalist heads off. Gentlemen, it is so ordered. Gunny, inform the Gang of Eight."

"Yes, sir." Gunny closed his book and headed for the nearest phone.

"Is it always that simple?" The Senator asked.

"No, there are times that they come to me and tell me that they have nothing, in which case I have to get on their ass to get me something but they've been doing pretty well lately." Nate answered with a smile.

"So, what happens now?" Maher ventured.

"Now, they open the radio channels, we get plugged into the mission and we wait for a result." Nate took a heavy breath. "Gunny makes a mean cup of coffee; you want me to have him brew up a batch?"

"Your Chief of Staff makes coffee?" The Senator sounded surprised.

"The meanest, nastiest, strongest cup of crank case oil you will ever ingest." Harm intervened as he pulled up a chair next to them. "Good evening, Mr. President."

"Evening, Harm." Nate nodded. "So, what do we say to a cup of Joe?" All three of them thought for a second before Harm and Nate decided to speak up at the same time. "Gunny!"

0412 ZULU

THE WEST WING

WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

"So, Gunny, how do you like working for the President?" Harm took a seat in Gunny's office.

"At midnight on a Friday, that's not the best time to ask that question." Gunny smiled. "You also realize that the general alcohol consumption or cigar consumption of the building goes up when things get really tough. This isn't to say that there are alcoholics in the building, just people who rotate between caffeine and alcohol in order to keep themselves on a fairly even keel."

"That isn't slightly unnerving to you?" Harm asked as he threw himself down on the couch in Gunny's office.

"No." Gunny smiled and shook his head. "I'll never make fun of another politician again. Not after seeing the way everything actually works. Honestly, do you know what it takes just to get the budget passed around here? I'm surprised the legislative agenda for the year isn't tied up just doing that. It was nothing short of a miracle to get that education bill passed back in March."

"Having Tom Boone and AJ Chegwidden around on Defence issues have to help." Harm remarked as Gunny poured him another cup of coffee.

"Having anyone with any knowledge around here to help, helps." Gunny shook his head. "There are parts of this that just knock you out. I only see two stunningly attractive women every day here. One is the First Lady and the other is the Press Secretary."

"And you felt like mentioning that because?" Harm raised his hands to demonstrate his curiosity.

"It frustrates me." Gunny pursed his lips. "Even in the Marines I dated more and saw more women then I have as the second most powerful man in the White House which you would think would turn more women on then, well, just about anything."

"You've had too much coffee." Harm remarked. "If you want to date more, just have your subordinates take a little more of your workload so that you have some free time on weekends."

"Because Charlie is the only guy in this office who spends more time behind his desk then I do, I suppose I could hand some scheduling stuff off to the Press Office but other then that, they're already a fifty pounds of pressure over a ten pound gauge and I don't trust the Communications office with anything that has to do with Foreign Policy." Gunny got up and stretched his legs.

"How's Harriet working out as the First Lady's Chief of Staff?" Harm decided to shift streams.

"She's having a lot of fun, making a lot of Hollywood contacts when she books the First Lady on talk shows and speaking tours. Her days are shorter then mine, except on Fridays when we don't do presidential press because getting an audience for anything on Friday is like standing on a fishing trawler on Lake Erie waiting for a sub to surface." Gunny rolled his eyes. "Working here is very conducive to coming up with similes."

"And vocabulary expansion?" Harm asked.

"I've read thousands of pages of federal legislative initiatives in the last eight months. Expansion by proxy I guess." Gunny laughed. "My internal clock tells me that it's time to head back to the Sit Room. My guess is that they have something."

0517 ZULU

THE SITUATION ROOM

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

"They got him." General Fitzpatrick announced as Gunny and Harm came back into the Situation Room. "The Army Rangers just announced it over the radio. Lieutenant Maher and his men are all at the Canadian Forces Base outside of Kandahar. They're going to be flown out to the _Reagan,_ from there; they're going to be taken to our base NATO Hospital in Landstuhl, Germany."

"Casualties?" Gunny chanced as he took his seat.

"Fourteen Al Qaeda dead." General Fitzpatrick answered. "No losses on our side, one Ranger shot in the shoulder."

"All's well that ends well." Harm looked up at the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. "What happens now?"

"Now, we all go home and go to bed." Nate rubbed his eyes. "Senator, you're welcome to have your family stay here for the night, there are thirteen bedrooms in the residence and I have no problems with you staying here until morning. What's the first issue on the agenda for the morning, Gunny?"

"I think the Press Office is going to want us to talk to the Press about what happened tonight so I think that a join Press Conference at 0900 would probably be appropriate." Gunny answered with a yawn and nod.

"You up for it, Ron?" Nate turned to face the Republican.

"Can you have me on a plane to Germany right after it's done?" Senator Maher asked.

"Gunny?" Nate turned over his shoulder toward his Chief of Staff.

"Already on it, sir." Gunny grinned.

"Okay then, I'll see all the brass tomorrow morning at 1100. Senator, I'll see you at 0830 and Gunny, we've got a bright at early wake up call at 0645." Nate gave the desk a pat and got to his feet. "Goodnight, people."

"Goodnight, Mr. President." Everyone answered.


	26. The First Thanksgiving

"Does anyone find it odd that we consider today a _light_ day?" Stacy turned to Charlie as they stood in the middle of the West Wing staring up at the televisions.

"It's the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, only one press briefing, Congress tries to wrap up business. What does the President have you doing today?" Charlie adjusted his glasses on the end of his nose.

"Gunny and I have to spend the day trying to fine a new Deputy Communications Director." Stacy answered.

"What happened to the old one?" Charlie furrowed his brow.

"We didn't have one." Gunny walked over with two cups of coffee and handed one to Stacy. "President thinks that his voice isn't elevated enough and he's afraid he's starting to become redundant. Morley needs some help."

"For God's sake, don't tell him that he'll go through the roof." Charlie mused. "Why are you two doing the interviewing?"

"I represent the President's office and Stacy has the interest of who can make things sound good to the Press Corps and the American public." Gunny answered with a chuckle as he watched the two of them try to blow on the coffee to cool it down. "Just before we get started, I want to know where everyone here went to school before Stacy and I go over the resumes with Stacy for the interviews. We've got it down to fifty names, but I don't want the press to see this as a stereotypical 'Ivy League – Liberal – North-eastern administration'."

"Well, I went to Princeton and Harvard." Charlie answered. "And Morley went to University of Michigan and Ohio State."

"I went to Wellesley." Stacy shrugged her shoulders.

"Alright let's avoid the Ivy League, Big Ten and Seven Sisters then when we interview today. We've got our first interview in twelve minutes in the Roosevelt Room." Gunny smacked the thick blue folder and headed off toward the Roosevelt Room.

"What did Gunny want?" Morley came out of his office.

"To tell us that we're adding another member to senior staff." Charlie answered and ducked into his office.

"At what position?" He asked, looking at Stacy.

"Deputy Director for White House Communications." Stacy winced. "Don't freak out, or if you're going to freak out, close your office door first." Morley headed back into his office and slammed the door behind him.

"Son of a bitch!" Morley shouted at the top of his lungs.

"He knows?" Charlie guessed in a loud voice from deep inside his office

"He knows." Stacy affirmed before heading off to join Gunny in the Roosevelt Room.

1430 ZULU

GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY

WASHINGTON, DC

Mac looked up at the large looming lecture hall full of students. Her use of the Socratic Method to engage her students had made her a hit in the law faculty. Of course, her looks had increased the male participation in her lectures as well. Mac adjusted her jacket and began to pace the front of the room in her high heels. "Last class we discussed the fact that the body of international law is largely undeveloped, there is no framework, like the US Constitution to create parameters. When we left off, someone had mentioned the conventions on human rights." Mac saw one of her students raise their hand.

"Professor, we've got the Geneva and Hague conventions and the UN Commission on Human Rights." One young female student in the third row argued.

"But arguably, they're all still being developed. The Geneva and Hague conventions were developed during a time at which the idea of enforcing rights legislation on any foreign nation was logistically impossible and it arguably still is." Mac countered.

"Yeah, besides, on the UN Commission, you have nations like China, Russia and Saudi Arabia all of which violate more human rights statutes then they're ever going to conceivably enforce." A male student argued from his spot across the lecture hall in the front row.

"Maybe, but if we don't have these guidelines or if we don't have any standards of Human Rights, then why should they ever follow it? The arguments for international human rights legislation are just this weak because they're a battle between realist and idealist schools of thought so, what's the solution for the American government?" Mac leaned back on the edge of her desk. There was silence in the auditorium. "Come on, someone in here has to have an idea. What does the US government do to enforce human rights in a situation like the war on terror, what human rights standards do we live by?"

One student far in the back raised her hand. "The First ten amendments of the Constitution!" She shouted from the back.

"There's another phrase for that and you should all know it." Mac looked around at her students slightly disappointed. Mac pointed back to the male student in the front row.

"The Bill of Rights." The student answered.

"Very good, but here's the thing about applying the Bill of Rights to things like foreign terrorists in American custody or even foreign combatants, would we not have to apply all the amendments?" Mac began to pace. "It prevents us from torturing as prohibited by the eighth amendment, means we can't take their guns from them that's prohibited by the second amendment and we can't stop them from spreading propaganda about us, that treads on the first amendment."

"So, is there anyway to impose human rights constraints that everyone can agree with, professor?" The young woman in the third row asked.

"Well, that's something that you're going to discuss. I know it's the last day before we break for Thanksgiving then it's into December exams. So, start thinking of a way to create observable human rights parameters on the international scale for your exam." Mac smiled. "Now, get out of here." She smiled and the lecture dismissed.

1621 ZULU

THE ROOSEVELT ROOM

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

"Eleven applicants and we aren't even at lunch will it never end?" Gunny rolled his eyes and groaned. "Gotta love the West Wing."

"We pardoned the turkey yesterday, at least." Stacy replied as she tapped her pen on the yellow legal pad. "I don't think the President had to give you that 'no Ivy League' order. We've talked to all the Ivy Leaguers so far."

"Yeah, and we've stumbled across a bunch of spoiled elitists." Gunny ran a hand over his stubble. "Sorry, did I say that out loud?"

"Yeah." She chuckled. "Do you harbour some dislike for Charlie and I because we were educated at private universities?"

"No, do you and Charlie harbour some dislike for me because I wasn't and I'm your boss?" Gunny raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well, I don't speak for Charlie, but I certainly don't dislike you. Hell, even grown fond of you over the last year." She smiled at him.

"I'll consider that an accomplishment." Gunny chuckled. "Who's next?"

"Katherine O'Leary." Stacy looked at the next resume. "Better have your secretary send her in." Gunny pushed the 'page' button and the next applicant walked through the door. "Take a seat." Gunny motioned.

"Miss O'Leary, we want to thank you for coming in today." Stacy led. "I'm Stacy Anderson the Press Secretary and this is…"

"I know who the two of you are." She stopped Stacy. "He's Victor Galindez, the Executive White House Chief of Staff."

"You're here to interview for a position as the Deputy Director of Communications and Senior Aide to the President. We just have a few questions to ask you first." Gunny took the lead. "Are you a Democrat?"

"Not that that should matter but yes." Katherine answered.

"The reason that we're asking, Miss O'Leary is because there are maybe four jobs in the White House where you have to share the President's convictions on most of the issues otherwise the White House looks divided and we can't have that." Stacy leapt in.

"It shouldn't matter because you've already got Derek Morley representing a liberal domestic policy and an idealist foreign policy on your speechwriting staff. My guess is the reason that you're interviewing for this position now instead of ten months ago is because the President decided that he needed someone from a red state with a little more grit." Katherine responded. "I voted for the President, I'd vote for him again and I'd vote to send Senators and Congressmen to the Hill to change the twenty-second amendment so that President Nathan Ross could sit in that office until he had filled all nine chairs on the Supreme Court, created real education and healthcare solutions and continued the foreign policy path he began at Istanbul."

"You're from South Carolina and you went to Duke University for Political Science?" Gunny looked down at her resume.

"I am and I did." She replied.

"And you went to Notre Dame for Law School?" Gunny continued.

"I did." She replied with a smile.

"You were chair person for the Democratic Union at Notre Dame." Gunny stated aloud.

"First woman in history to hold that post." She commented.

"You've ghost written for the Democratic Senatorial candidates from Indiana _and_ South Carolina and you worked for Miles Cleary's Senate Campaign last year. Why didn't the Senator hire you on?" Gunny looked up from the resume.

"Just because I think that Senator Cleary deserved to beat his Republican opponent doesn't mean I thought he was a good guy. He offered me a job, I turned him down." She leaned back in the chair. "I thought he was a bit of a pinhead." Big light bulbs began to go off in Gunny's head. The President had used that exact word to describe the Junior Senator from North Carolina.

"What do you think you could bring to the speechwriting staff?" Stacy followed through on her last question.

"I think that the President is trying to hard to steer away from his intellect. He's a smart guy, his attitude at Istanbul and the way he carried himself demonstrated that clearly. Derek Morley's done a good job writing speeches that make him look like one of the 'good ol' boys' which is why he fits in with the Red State Democrats so well. But he's the President and some elevated oratory needs to be coming from the communications office." She concluded with a heavy exhale.

"Well, thanks for your time." Gunny stood up and shook her hand. "We'll be getting back to you." Katherine O'Leary shook Gunny's hand and shook Stacy's hand before leaving the room.

"I know we're supposed to come up with a short list, but if there's anyone better then that. I'll eat my hat." Gunny mused.

"I may hold you to that." Stacy threatened with a coy smile.

2203 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"Mom, you don't have to worry about cooking Thanksgiving dinner!" Harm announced as he came through the door.

"And why is that, Harmon?" Trish came walking out of the kitchen.

"We were invited to have Thanksgiving dinner at the White House." Harm dropped his briefcase. "I figured I could save everyone a whole lot of work and get one heck of a meal."

"And you decided to make a decision without asking us?" Mac came walking downstairs in a 'George Washington University' sweatshirt.

"I had good motives." Harm covered. "Besides, the Chegwiddens are going so the kids will have Arleigh to play with."

"My son getting his family invited to the White House for Thanksgiving dinner. Harmon, you've come along way from those detentions in Middle School." Trish smiled at her son before heading back into the kitchen.

"Detentions in Middle School, Harm?" Mac raised an eyebrow at her husband. "I learn something new about you everyday."

"I got into a few paper airplane incidents." Harm shrugged his shoulders as he dropped down on to the couch next to his wife. "So, how was class today, Professor Rabb?"

"Trying to get first year law students to think up critical parameters for human rights in international law can be so frustrating." Mac groaned.

"It's also not the easiest thing to say." Harm joked.

"This isn't funny." Mac warned him.

"It is a little funny." Harm held his fingers a hair's width apart.

"So, about Thanksgiving." Mac switched topics.

"We can drop in at any point; the President told me that the meal would be served at 1700, so one would assume that we have to be there before they serve the food." Harm shifted himself on the couch to face Mac. "He said we can bring the whole family including Sergei and his girlfriend and I figured that you so rarely get to experience Thanksgiving from the White House."

"So, we pretty much have to go don't we?" Mac questioned.

"I'm not sure how wise it would be to say no, but I think it could be a fun evening. I mean, the President isn't even going to be back until 1500 because he's doing the coin toss at the Redskins – Cowboys game." Harm sat forward on the couch.

"So, do you want to go?" Mac put her hand on his back.

"Yeah, I do. I mean, Gunny will be there and so will AJ. So, we'll be in friendly company and we've been friends with the President and the First Lady for the better part of the last decade." Harm rationalized. "I'm just not sure that I want Mom to think that I'm doing this just because I don't want her overexerting herself."

"Harmon!" Trish called from the kitchen. "Do you think the White House kitchen staff would mind if I called them up and passed a few recipes along?" Back in the living room, Mac turned to face her husband.

"I don't think there's much worry when it comes to that, Harm." Mac smiled at him and helped pull him up off the couch.

2412 ZULU

THE WEST WING

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

"Did you see the cover of Time Magazine this week?" Stacy asked as she and Gunny.

"The Pennsylvania Avenue Street Gang?" Gunny asked with a raised eyebrow. "Me, the President, Vice President, Speaker and Senate Majority Leader on the front cover of the magazine with the Capitol building in the background. Inside they claim that we run the federal government like legislative manufacturing facility."

"Well, in the last ten months we've gotten an awful lot of legislation passed. Think that you and the President could get that much done if you didn't play poker with the Speaker of the House and the Senate Majority Leader every Friday night?" Stacy asked as they got to the door to the oval office.

"I doubt it." Gunny shrugged. "You play the cards you're dealt. Someone just stacked our hand." He pushed open the door only to be confronted with a cloud of smoke.

"Gunny!" The four men chorused as Gunny came marching through the door. "You're fifteen minutes late." The President accused as he dealt the cards. Sure enough, there was the President, Vice President, Senate Majority Leader and Speaker of the House sitting at a card table with cigars in their teeth and scotch in their glasses.

"Stacy, why don't you pull up a chair and join us?" The Vice President encouraged and Stacy did just that.

"Alright, the name of the game is five card stud." The Speaker looked at his cards. "Ace bets a dollar blind."

"What does that even mean?" Gunny lit his cigar.

"None of us know, I think Sam just likes saying it." Senate Majority Leader Ed McLaren answered. "Cigar, Miss Anderson?" McLaren offered the open box across the table.

"Women don't smoke cigars." Gunny laughed.

"Oh really?" Stacy challenged. "Thank you, Senator." Stacy reached into the cigar box and pulled one out. She bit off the end with her teeth and spit it into the nearby wastebasket. The married men at the table just shook their heads. She whipped a lighter out of her pocket and lit the cigar. She rolled went to roll the cigar on her tongue in order to get under Gunny's skin but the Speaker of the House stopped her.

"We're Democrats, when people engage in that kind of activity involving cigars in this office, we get in trouble." He joked and both Gunny and Stacy stopped dead. The other three men at the table bit down on their cigars to hold in laughter. Speaker Sam Jordan was a Texas Democrat who had that kind of deadly serious glare that scared the other Democrats and most of the Republicans in the House, completely shitless. Both Gunny and Stacy were reaching for explanations when Senator McLaren started laughing.

"Damn it, Sam, you had them going." The Vice President laughed.

"Yeah, until Ed screwed it up." Sam punched the Senate Majority Leader in the shoulder. "So, young lady, are you gonna bet or not?"

"I'm in." Stacy threw chips into the pot. The cards were laid down and the President took the pot with an ace high straight.

"This is why we don't play in the oval; he always wins when we play here." The Vice President muttered. A few hours went passed and a few dozen hands were played. One at a time, players dropped out of the game. The Vice President was out first, but he stuck around for the cigars and liquor. Gunny was out next, opting to stick around as well for cigars and the liquor. The Senate Majority Leader was out after Gunny but decided to head for the airport so that he could head home for Thanksgiving on the red eye. The President was the last person to bow out before the game came down to the final two; it was Stacy facing off against the Speaker of the House.

"You think you've got it in you girly?" The Speaker cajoled, his teeth clenched around a cigar. "No woman whose daddy was a Republican can beat a Texas Democrat at poker."

"Bring it on, _Congressman!_" Stacy challenged as she peered over her cards. The Speaker began to deal out the cards

"Here it is, the ultimate battle of the Democrats." Gunny went into his best Howard Cosell impression. "The White House Press Secretary Stacy Anderson representing the executive against Speaker of the House Sam Jordan representing the legislative branch." Stacy poured herself a shot of Jack Daniels and threw it back.

"You can't hack it at the White House, Mr. Speaker." She snarled at him. Gunny began rubbing her shoulders to encourage her. The chips began to pile up in the middle of the table. Cards were thrown down and new ones dealt out. Stacy reached back and threw in all her chips. "Call." She challenged.

The Speaker answered by meeting her bet. "You ain't got it." He paused. "You called, your turn." Stacy leaned back before throwing her cards in.

"Straight flush." She grinned arrogantly. The Speaker hung his head.

"All I got is a full house." The Speaker gave his head a shake. Stacy squealed and launched herself out of the chair and into Gunny's arms. There was a round of chuckles at that display.

"Alright, Gunny and Stacy, you two head home and I'll see you tomorrow for Thanksgiving dinner." Nate grinned and gave a nod and the two of them headed back out of the Oval toward their West Wing offices. The Vice President, the Speaker and the President stood in the Oval. "There goes two of the best staffers I could ever have."

"You'd better keep them from getting any closer, Nate." Speaker Sam Jordan counselled.

"I hate to hop on the bandwagon, Mr. President, but Sam's got a point. With what happened with Clinton during the last Democratic White House, the Party has had some problems with trysts in the White House." The Vice President cautioned.

"Wes, Sam, they're senior staffers, what they do in their personal life has no impact on the kind of job that they do when they walk through those West Wing doors. So, whether they're playing Scrabble or he's got her bent over the kitchen sink, it's not my business, it's not your business and it's not the business of the American people. They didn't elect Gunny or Stacy so, the two of them aren't accountable to the American public, they're accountable to me." Nate argued.

"That'll play well in Peoria." The Speaker shot sarcastically. "You know how this works. Even the hint of a scandal, anything the Washington Post can even kind of pick up on and it becomes a three day story blitz. Our whole agenda gets hijacked by this one piece of gossip."

"Then it becomes a flyover values disaster. We face questions like; 'are they having premarital sex?' 'Is she pregnant?' 'If she's pregnant, is she going to have an abortion?' 'Will he ask her to marry him?' And then our whole agenda means nothing because the Republicans can run a campaign just based on the personal lives of White House senior staff." The Vice President took a deep breath. "It's a Republican dream. They get to run a campaign on premarital sex and abortion and family values without applying it to the broader context."

"And I say that the Presidency isn't some schoolyard sandbox fight and I know a lot of Republicans who would agree with me." Nate pressed. "We forged a remarkable peace in June that got me nominated for a Nobel. We pushed through that education initiative in March and we're making progress in Afghanistan, it's been a good first ten months."

"That could all be overshadowed by one bit of gossip." The Speaker concluded. "Just keep an eye on it, Mr. President."

"I will not get involved in the personal lives of my staff unless they ask me to and I doubt that they will and even if they do, I'd be hesitant to get involved." Nate contested. "Now, the two of you have a plane to catch back home to Texas." Nate gave the two of them a pat on the back as they all headed out of the Oval. "Have a good Thanksgiving. Sam, give my best to Peg. Wes, give my love to Daisy."

"Thank you, Mr. President." They said simultaneously as they gave the President a courtesy nod.

2109 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE RESIDENCE

WASHINGTON, DC

"Mrs. Burnett, you really don't have to do any work. The chefs don't mind." Nicole assured her guest who was determined to keep herself busy today.

"You don't have to call me 'Mrs. Burnett', dear, you're the First Lady, surely you can call me 'Trish'." The older woman smiled at Nicole.

"You'd better do it." Mac advised. "She can be quite persistent."

"I'm just not used to having someone who insists on helping professional chefs." Peach smiled brightly.

"Nicole, if I didn't know you better, I'd almost take that as an insult." Eileen Ross joshed her daughter in law.

"Oh, Mother, hush up." Beverly Chegwidden mock lectured. "Big meals were never your thing. You did the yams but Grandma Ross always did the Turkey."

"It was the same way at our house until Harm's grandmother died." Mac joined the conversation. "But Trish really has some knock out recipes." The kids ran through the kitchen in toward the living room. "Sasha!" Mac called after her daughter who stopped fast on her heels and walked back over toward her mother with little Tim Ross right by her side. "What are you guys playing?"

"I'm Calamity Jane and Tim is Wild Bill and Arleigh, Jack, Brad and Tommy are the bad guys!" Sasha said with a noted enthusiasm. "We're trying to hunt them down." The women all just looked at each other.

"Just don't hog tie them okay?" Mac grinned at her daughter and gave the child a rub on the head.

"What's hog tie?" Sasha turned toward Tim.

"Oh, come on, I'll show you when we catch Jack." Tim grinned and the two of them ran off.

"Nicole, that boy's going to be a bad influence." Mac chuckled.

"Yeah, he spends too much time with his father." The First Lady answered.

Back on the couch, Harm, AJ, Frank, Gunny, Sergei, Stacy and Tamila were all crowded around the TV watching the Redskins – Cowboys football game. They were almost at half time and the President was on his way back having done the opening coin toss. Harm and AJ were both hunched over to get closer to the TV, they had a small wager on the outcome of today's game and both thought that the close score meant good things for their side. Tamila was in Sergei's lap, but they were young an in love and no one really paid them any mind. Stacy wasn't in Gunny's lap but she was leaned right up against his arm and shoulder and that was just close enough to raise a few eyebrows.

"No chance, Mr. Secretary, the Cowboys have no running game. The Redskins will eat them alive in the second half." Harm clapped his hands together as everyone got up off the couches.

"Yeah, well if your Washington secondary didn't have more holes then a Swiss cheese convention, Rabb, you'd be able to stop the Dallas aerial attack when it came." The Secretary of Defence gave a bemused chuckle. He watched his son play for a second and was amused when little Sasha Rabb pretended to gun him down with the toy gun. Arleigh hammed it up before ultimately falling to the floor.

"Sasha, did you get all the bad guys?" Harm bent over to scoop his daughter up.

"Almost, dad, Tim went off to get Jack." Sasha had lost one of her front teeth but she presented her smile widely nonetheless.

"I got him!" Tim grunted as he dragged his brother in from the bedroom. Sure enough one Ross had hogtied another one. Little Jack was getting one heck of a rug-burn as he lay flat on his belly with his arms and legs tied together behind his back and his brother dragged him out into the living room. "Look, mom, I got Jack!" Tim said with a very self-important smile.

"Timothy, untie your brother!" Nicole was half amused half terrified as one of her boys stood their proudly and the other lay squirming on his belly unable to free himself.

"Oh come on, honey, this is hilarious!" Nate joked as he walked into the residence.

"Nathan, this is not funny." Nicole momentarily lectured her husband. "Timothy, untie him."

"Don't know how." Tim smiled again.

"What do you mean you don't know how?" Nicole was slightly taken aback.

"Dad only taught me how to tie the knots, he never taught me how to untie them." Tim answered and Nicole shot her husband a glare.

"You're in trouble, buddy." Harm chortled.

"Don't I know it." Nate laughed as he took a few strides and was soon over at the scene of the crime. "Come on, champ." With a few turns of his wrist, he soon had the ropes loose and Little Jack got free.

"Dad, not funny." The child warned his father before going to hide from his brother behind his mother's legs.

"You taught your kids to tie each other up?" AJ Chegwidden said with surprise.

"I figured they'd try it with a stuffed animal, not on each other." Nate answered.

"Dinner is served." Trish came walking out to the long table with a turkey on the silver platter.

"This was the turkey that wasn't lucky enough to get a pardon, right, Mr. President?" Frank asked as everyone took their seats at the table.

"Yeah, I think I just pardoned the smaller one so that I could feed more people at dinner this year." Nate took his seat at the head of the table. The adults had their own table and the kids had theirs. Fourteen year-old Helene had insisted that she was old enough to sit with the adults but had been given the task of being the head of the table for the kids. Something which her aunt assured her came with a new outfit from the mall the next time that they went shopping.

"Okay, since we're all _finally _gathered," Nicole tossed a nasty glare down the table at her truant husband, "who would like to say grace?"

"I would, if that's okay?" Harm looked around to a round of generally approving nods.

"I was just about to suggest that, Harm, go ahead." Nate settled his napkin in his lap.

"Dear God," Harm couldn't think of the last time that he had led grace but it had been a long time, " this year has seen a good deal of events both good and bad. We know that we are tested in the tough times to be the best people that we can and that when he falter it's so that we may endeavour to be stronger when the next challenge presents itself. I want to thank you on this thanksgiving for being truly gifted with my beautiful wife and kids." Mac gave him a kiss on the cheek when he said that, which caused him to blush and chuckle.

"No kissing during the blessing." AJ grumbled.

"I want to thank you for the quality time that I'm now spending with my parents and for allowing me to realize how important that time really is. I want to thank you for seeing Sergei through that tough time during the spring on his way home from the Bataan. I think, equal to all those things, I want to thank you for the mighty bounty of friendship that we enjoy whether our friends are here with us today," Harm thought of Gunny, AJ and Nate, "or abroad with their own families," Harm thought of Sturgis, Bax and Keeter, "their contributions to our lives cannot be measured in words. Amen."

Everyone gave a solemn nod. Trish felt a tear well up in her eye, she was so proud of her son. "Amen." They all chorused together. There was a heavy silence and tension that was aching to be broken. Eventually, Gunny felt that responsibility fell to him.

"Pass the yams, Admiral." Gunny motioned to Harm, who laughed and reached for the bowl.


	27. Love, Lust, Laureates and Lectures

My head hurts. Well, there's good reason for it. We just got off an overnight trip on Air Force One and we're currently in Oslo, Norway. Well, it wasn't actually overnight, it just seems that way because we were flying into the time zones. The President has been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. He's sure that he won't win but the again he was sure that he wouldn't be nominated. The Egyptian President refused to be nominated alongside our President; he said that it was President Ross' idea and he basically steered the negotiations.

I love our trips overseas now, I really do. Me and Stacy get to go and staff the President while Charlie and Morley make sure the trains run on time back in Washington and ever since we hired our new Deputy Communications Director, there's a woman there to make sure that the two of them don't fly off into some endless policy driven oblivion. Anyway, getting back to overseas trips. Every time we end up going on overseas trips I get stuck in a hotel room with a very voluptuous blonde who, true to her Democratic Liberal principles, runs around the hotel room in as little clothing as she could reasonably get away with as the White House Press Secretary.

So, when the President asks me "Gunny, what put that smile on your face?" I normally just look him right in the eye and say "Nothing, Mr. President." I push open the door to the hotel room and drop my bag on the spot. There's a huge groan that escapes my throat before I pad into the hotel room. They call this place the Grand Hotel Oslo and I know that it may be for the President but right now all I want is a blanket and nice warm bed and maybe a feather pillow for my head. I strip off my shirt and slacks, completely disregarding the fact that my female co-worker and friend is in the room.

I fall on to the bed and smile happily. "Did you happen to notice something?" Stacy asks and I just shake my head burying it further in the pillow. Eventually I let out another groan and lift my head.

"There's only one bed." I lament and slide off the bed. "You take it." I'm about to go and try to make myself comfortable on the couch when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"If you can be adult………I mean, mature about it, I don't suppose there's much fuss about the two of us sharing a bed." She's got to be kidding. She's wearing those tight little booty panties and her Wellesley t-shirt and she expects me to get any sleep. I swear, she's doing this just to torture me, she knows it'll work too which is the more puzzling thing.

I've had this talk with Secretary Chegwidden and Admiral Rabb, both of whom felt the need for some reason to point out that getting involved with a co-worker was an inherently risky idea. Like I didn't already know that, hell, it's ten times riskier for me because I work at the White House. I slowly nod and turn back toward the bed. She gets under the covers first and I have to remind myself, this is a two day trip outside of the country, now is not the time for bad thoughts. Well, actually they're not _bad _thoughts unless you're a priest (pretty much what I've been since I started working for the President), but I still probably shouldn't have them while the object of my arousal is asleep next to me. I grab the phone and place a wake up call for six the next morning.

"So what is it about Marines?" She turned in the bed to face me.

"What do you mean?" I ask with a slight nod.

"Well, they say the stick is built in on Air Force pilots, and Navy jocks claim to have something big and powerful between their legs. So, what's the big Marine come on line?" She teases lightly. "Come on, I'll flirt shamelessly with you and get your hopes up until you tell me."

"Oh, but I might enjoy that." I tease with a quick flirtatious smile. "They say we're like the Energizer Bunny, once we're good and hard we just keep going and going and going."

"Is that right?" She raises her eyebrow at me. "Maybe we should resolve this in the morning."

"Maybe we should." I toss back at her as we fall asleep.

1325 ZULU

PENTAGON OPNAVS OFFICE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

I was sitting at my desk when Bax came walking in. He was grinning like a fool; he's been in a good mood since Jen moved in with him a few months ago. Sturgis is sitting across the office chuckling. He knows what's probably going through Bax's head as much as I do. Then again maybe I don't. Bax has been his own kind of weird since he started dating Jen and took up a permanent office at CINCMED HQ in Gaeta, Italy. I've found myself wondering a few times what it must be like to be a four star, the idea that you only have to salute the President and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs; it limits the amount of people able to handcuff you through orders.

"Looks like you're in a good mood." I say as Bax takes a seat across the desk from me.

"Crack open the champagne, Harm old boy, I'm getting married!" Bax was grinning from ear to ear. The light played well off his navy blue coat and the gold bands on his sleeves. He's my old college buddy but he's starting to look more like one of those distinguished Naval heroes that we used to see pictures of in our High School history books. Hell, I never would have figured that he would have ended up as a four star back when we were at the Academy. I figured that he'd get his twenty and be out with a nice job at Grumman or Gulfstream Aerospace or something. Now he's got the Mediterranean command, Keeter's the Deputy Commander in the Pacific and Sturgis and I are here in Washington pushing papers.

"Jen said yes? Bax, that's great news. Where and when?" I lean back in my chair and interlock my fingers behind my head.

"Next winter in Sanremo." He answers, stilling grinning like a chimp.   
"I take it Jen likes Italy?" I chuckle. Hard for me to believe that the Petty Officer that I rescued from the brig seven years ago is engaged to one of my best friends from the Academy.

"She loves it, she's learning to speak the language and since she finished up her schooling she gets called in on psychological consults for the fleet if we need her help." He settles back into the chair. "It may be a year off, but Harm, I want you to book it off because I'm going to need a best man and you better bet your ass that I pick you."

"That's awful nice of you there, Bax." I reach out and shake his hand. "So, what the hell are you doing in the Pentagon today? I thought you were just in town to brief the CNO and the President yesterday."

"I am, I did, I have a few hours left before Jen and I hop on an American Airlines flight to Naples then head for Gaeta. I figured that I would want to check in with you and Sturgis, I even dropped him off a burger and I brought you a salad from Wendy's." He reaches into the bag and pulls out some weird little plastic dish and tosses it on the desk. "Never say I don't do anything for you."

"You're so kind." I roll my eyes sarcastically. "So, how's the situation look in the Med?"

"Everyone's calmed the hell down which is a bonus. Israel's back to fighting Hamas; Syria is making an honest effort to co-operate with the UN." Bax went to continue but I decided to slow him down a little.

"Largely because the President and I sat down with the Presidents of Iran, Turkey and Syria on the last day and told them that their options were to either co-operate with our plan and the UN or there would be a partitioning agreement signed and we would create an Independent Kurdistan out of their Kurdish territories." I chuckle slightly, remembering how I ended up as the bad cop in that negotiation.

"Yeah, well the Iranians are actually doing pretty well with their democracy experiment. They're not overwhelmingly pro-American but since it was a popular movement and no one could see the invisible hand we had in it, they're not anti-American which is reassuring." He cracks his knuckles.

"I'm still not sure about the legality of that whole operation. Mossad operates like that and I know that we did everything appropriate to remove our own domestic roadblocks, I'm just not sure." I shake my head. I never liked the idea of CIA involving themselves like that. Maybe it's from going on some of Webb's ops.

"Democracy in Iran, Harm, it's a wave of the future." Bax gives a chuckle and gets up out of the chair.

"Would you be so psyched if it spread to Saudi Arabia?" I chance. I know Bax is a four star so; he's got some political understanding. "A democratic free for all over the world's largest oil reserves? A place where Osama Bin Laden could set up his own political party, worse, where he could win? Would you want that?"

"Do I look suicidal?" He fires back. "Harm, there's a reason that the plan for Iraq that landed on President Russell's desk from DoD a few years ago never materialized, it's because we need some dictators and despots in that region. That sucks but it's the way it is."

"And that doesn't bother you?" I follow up. "We can say in 2001 that we're for human rights in Afghanistan, we can praise the Iranians a few months ago for overturning their oppressive theocratic government but we wouldn't step up if this was Saudi Arabia? You've read the reports too, Bax, the fact that we support these guys is part of why there are terrorists who see us as the Great Satan."

"And the fact that they blow up people on buses in Ramallah and people in an Embassy in Kenya makes me not want to appease them." He dusts off the front of his jacket.

"Hell, we need a workable policy for that region, Bax or we're just going to keep getting involved in engagements over there and we'll spend the next few generations wading through the desert like drunken nomads." I grunt slightly as I shift in my chair.

"Tell you what, Harm; you come up with one, take it to the boss." Bax tucks his cover under his arm and heads for the door. "I have to get to Dulles, talk to you later."

"Yeah, see you." I nod before returning to my paperwork.

2201 ZULU

GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY

WASHINGTON, DC

I hate these 'Meet the Profs' nights that the department holds for the students in the Law faculty. The thing is, you need a really good excuse in order to get out of going. The kids call these 'Beer with Profs' Night because the profs normally end up buying all the beer here at the campus bar and passing it out to the students who are of age. Law faculty nights are apparently a little more raucous. You get a group of people who make a habit of arguing into the same room with alcohol and things are bound to hit the boiling point rather quickly.

Right now, two of my students are across the room talking about the latest decisions on Title IX. That's one of the things about my new job that I love, I'm expected to contribute professional writings on court decisions and help frame the judicial debate in this country. Of course it helps that GWU has one of the most reputed Law faculties in the country. "Think about it!" One of my female students argues. "Iowa does it for wrestling; Oklahoma, Ohio and Texas all do it to an almost ridiculous extent for football."

"Because football pays for all the other sports!" My male student retorts. "There's a difference between equality and overcompensation that third wave feminism refuses to acknowledge. The court acknowledged that in their decision."

"The court is a joke, it's four conservatives and two moderate conservatives with three liberals who are hushed at every opportunity." My female student retorts. "They'd overturn Title IX if we let them; hell, they'd overturn _Roe_, _Brown _and _Meyer_ while ensuring that no one touched the _Korematsu_ decision or the Second Amendment!"

"So, in your opinion, the Supreme Court is so conservative that they would re-institute segregation and limit freedom of speech unreasonably? Come on, see this is where the liberal argument goes off on some tangent. You've got the White House and the Congress and the oldest justices on the court are in the conservative wing. _Your_ President has the chance to stock the court." The male student argues.

"What do you think professor?" My female student turns toward me.

"I think that the argument that you should have been making rather then arguing the bias of the court was the merits of the case. _Roe, Brown, Meyer _and _Korematsu_ all have one thing in common and that's the fact that they were argued on their merits and that's why they exist as precedent. The overreaching argument here is that most universities overcompensate with scholarships for certain sports teams including football so that they can generate revenue. By doing so, they exclude others from an equal opportunity education." I argue. "One thing that they cannot teach you here is that the argument is what you make of it. _But_ you have to make the argument."

"So, that's the essence of trial law, making the argument?" She actually sounds surprised by that.

"It's just that simple. Juries and judges are both far more convinced by the stronger argument. It's why you read Plato in school and it's why OJ got off." I feel a little tension build in my shoulders.

"What about the other thing, Professor Rabb? Do you think there's an inherent bias on the Supreme Court since the last Democratic President to appoint a Chief Justice was Harry Truman?" My female student is obviously politically charged and spoiling for a fight.

"The idea of an independent judiciary and separation of powers is something we hold dear. Both sides are guilty of trying to politicize the court and that's simply not what it's there for." I roll my shoulders a little. "Then again, you're fooling yourself if you think that the President isn't going to try and make a statement by appointing some pretty radical liberals to courts that had been previously dominated by conservatives."

"So, that's what like the sixth, fifth, tenth, eleventh and fourth circuits?" My male student questions.

"Not to mention the fact that the Reagan and Bush appointments are getting older and there's even a Ford appointment on the court." My female student adds.

"There's four vacancies right there, three of which are generally considered to be on the more conservative side of the court. President Ross could drastically shift the balance of power on the Supreme Court for generations." I pointed out. "Worried about judicial activism?"

"Terrified." My male student says. "Forty years of a Democratic congress leading up to 1994 was one thing but a Democratic President with high approval rating and a favourable congress that could have the judiciary handed to him under the Christmas tree, yeah, I'm a little on edge about that."

"Go work for the GOP then." My female student counters.

"You two bicker amongst yourselves." I joke as I head across the room toward my colleagues who are standing up near the bar. The Dean of the Law School is a woman and a former justice from the ninth circuit court of appeals.

"Get pulled into a political debate, Judge Rabb?" She asks as her fingers coil around the stem of her martini glass. It's been a long time since anyone called me that.

"A debate on Title IX and judicial activism." I answer as I take a half seat on the bar stool.

"I was accused of that quite a bit in my day." She muses. "What about you?"

"In Capitol cases I was known to strike down death penalty recommendations. I sat with the military court of appeals and was known to relax fraternization punishments. Things that they would have fried me for twenty years ago." I chuckle.

"You like your job here?" She leans over the bar slightly.

"I like being able to argue and discuss legal points, I like being able to write opinions for legal journals and I like having the ability to shape young minds." I smile to myself.

"Well, aren't you the idealist." She muses.

"Creates less worry lines then being a pessimist." I joke.

"That it does." She nods. "That it does."

2129 ZULU

OSLO CITY HALL

OSLO, NORWAY

I'm really impressed with two people right now, alright maybe three. I'm impressed with my boss who just became the third American President in history to win a Nobel Peace Prize while in office and among four all time to ever win one. I'm impressed with Stacy who, despite having taken interviews with most members of the international press over the last few days working on jet lag, looks completely well rested and absolutely gorgeous. Finally, I'm impressed with myself because I'm finally getting used to going to formal galas in a monkey suit.

When an American President is popular in Europe, he's the toast of the town. The women over here are really something, it might just be because I'm the Executive White House Chief of Staff. "You actually going to dance with the girl, Gunny? Or are you just going to stand here all night looking at her?" The Presidents asks me.

"I'm up for either at this point, sir." I answer, carefully utilizing the Potomac two-step that I've learned after the last year in Washington.

"Gunny, have some damn fun. We've a got a few days before Congress goes home for the holidays, then we come back in the new year and we've got five months to try and get something done before everyone comes down with midterm election fever and goes stir crazy. We're going to have to sign Charlie over to the DCCC so that he can make sure that we keep a favourable congress through the midterm elections." The President sticks his hands in his pockets.

"Gonna be hard to find a politics man like Charlie to keep our political strategy and legislative offices in check." I shrug my shoulders. Charlie runs the White House's political affairs like no one else and not having him around for seven months is going to be tougher then hell. "How do you think I'm doing so far in this job?"

"Hell, Gunny, you're the best goddamn Chief of Staff I could have hoped for." He chuckles. "Are you enjoying the job?"

"I can get a reservation in any restaurant, I get to help people and for once in my life I'm making a respectable paycheck. Works for me." I grin. "Besides, in one year I've seen London, Istanbul and Oslo. I'm kind of interested to see where we go next year." I let out a sigh. "I've been talking to Secretary Chegwidden and Admiral Rabb. Or rather, they've been talking to me."

"About what?" He asks, his eyebrows furrowed. I nod over to Stacy giving him a silent indication. "Damn it." He grunts out. "I keep telling people that the private lives of White House staff is none of their business. No one elected you guys."

"No, sir, that's true but they think that since we influence policy, we're open to bribery. Especially, if people know nuggets about our personal lives." I remind him. "Who asked you?"

"The Speaker and the Vice President. They're worried about a scandal marring the Democratic legislative agenda." He rolls his eyes.

"Just tell them what I told the Admiral and the Secretary." I suggest. "There's nothing going on."

"If I told them that I wouldn't be lying?" The man knows how to cut to the quick. Damn it. I can't lie to the President and I can't set him up to lie to anyone else. If I tell him nothing's going on, then nothing can actually go on.

"You wouldn't be lying." I affirm. He looks almost disappointed in me. We both know I'm not lying but I know the President well enough to know that he's a sentimentalist and he knows me just well enough to know that I wish I was lying.

"Alright, Gunny, go dance with the girl then, if we don't have to worry about any sparks flying." He gives me a pat on the back. This is a direct challenge. He's calling my hand to see I'm levelling with him. I chuckle and give him a nod before heading across the floor. Stacy does look gorgeous in her sleeveless floor length green gown. I close my fist tight, I'm going to need to hold on to my resolve for this dance. I stand in front of her and extend my hand downward.

"Could I have this dance, Miss Anderson?" Okay, sure it was formal and corny but I couldn't think of any other way of asking while wearing a tuxedo. She places her hand in mine and I lead the two of us out on to the dance floor. There's always a concert and a formal function after the presentation of the peace prize. I never danced as much in my life as much as I have since I took this job and in the year since I feel as though I've gone from having two left feet to being Fred Astaire.

"They're looking at us." She whispers, her teeth gritted together.

"Who?" I ask, not daring to glance around the room.

"Pretty much everyone who isn't dancing." She answers, her eyes fixed on mine.

"Y'ever think that it's because we're among a few people in the room young enough not to remember experiences they had during the Eisenhower administration?" I chance with quick grin. "Or maybe it could be how you look in that dress."

"A compliment, from the White House Chief of Staff? I should write this down." She laughs, a light pixie kind of laugh. Oh God, I just used the word pixie, even only using it in my head shows that I'm in trouble. I need to cover this with some masculine bravado quickly.

"Well, you know you look…" Oh, I'm off to a really good start.

"I look what, Gunny?" She plays with me. Her bottom lip hangs open in the way that makes her pink lip gloss gleam in the light and beg me to kiss her.

"Hot." I add trying to regain my footing.

"Very smooth." She adds with that same condescending overeducated mouth that I'm willing to bet turned on a bunch of political junkies when she was working for ZNN. A few more minutes pass, as the music plays on. It's some weird chamber music, maybe the Europeans think they're too good for Sam Cooke and Marvin Gaye, I don't know. I dip her lightly before bringing her back up. "I'm impressed."

"With my dancing?" I question, slightly confused.

"With your self control, I haven't caught you staring at my chest yet." She giggles at me. She can't be this hot, if she is, then I'm going to want to kiss her. My eyes dart downward for a second to gawk immaturely at her cleavage.

"I think I may have spoke too soon." She laughs again. "So, how does it feel to have helped the boss win a Nobel Peace Prize?"

"Kind of surreal. You helped in the whole venture, how do you feel?" I spin her around and she comes back in hard against my chest. She's a little out of breath when she hits my chest. Half of me is wondering if this is affecting her as much as it is me.

"Like this administration is living up to the potential that I knew it had at the outset. A lot of that is due to you I think. A lot of administrations have potential when they start out but they kind of trail off. That Marine discipline of yours keeps Charlie and Morley and Kat and hell even me on course. If we didn't have to worry about you chewing us out, we wouldn't have accomplished half of what we have this year."

"Thanks." I smile. The music ends and we separate. She walks back over to talk with the First Lady and I head back over to speak with the President.

"You're _sure_ I wouldn't be lying if I told the Speaker there was nothing going on?" He asks again. I made it through the dance, I know nothing can happen.

"You wouldn't be, sir." I assure him.

2414 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"How was the thing at work?" Harm asks as I walk through the door. I peel off my jacket and toss it on to the tree by the door.

"Kids with the usual grievances about Title IX and politicization of the courts." I flop down on the couch and take the remote from Harm's lap. "They're teaching these kids the law without teaching them how to be lawyers. Could you imagine sending a Marine into the field only having taught him how an M16 works and the Private never having actually fired it?"

"I thought that's what moot courts and mock trials were for?" He gives me that flyboy grin that stops all argument but also makes me want to slap him silly.

"Yeah, but that's arguing against someone else who also has a bare minimal idea about what they're doing. One of the reasons that Bud is such a good lawyer is because he had you and me around to provide him with something to strengthen the force of his arguments."

"Alright, so we should force these kids to argue against established lawyers? Couldn't someone argue that if they lost it would only discourage them from practicing law if they lost, especially if they lost badly?" I hate it when he does that. I want to come home and huff and bitch and complain and he has to be logical.

"The future of jurisprudence in this country is based on a bunch of spoiled kids who are having hard times formulation original arguments and instead return to old talking points either legal or political and that doesn't bother you?" I kick my feet up on to his lap. "I mean we got better by arguing each other didn't we?"

"First of all, you didn't answer my question and I think that my win/loss record against you proves that I certainly got better." He smiles at me and I toss him an annoyed glare.

"What do you mean by that?" I hurl my question at him, I'm a little annoyed and tired and he's decided to prod at me, it's on now.

"Well, nothing, Mac. It's just that, well, for the first year that we worked together I won a heck of a lot more then I lost." He shrugs away from me slightly.

"You also sandbagged a lot more then you did any real honest lawyering." I charge and he looks seriously offended.

"One time, I did that one time and you still won't let me forget it." He replies, very shocked by my charge.

"You also discharged a Heckler and Koch into the courtroom ceiling and got your ass chewed out by not only Admiral Morris but Admiral Chegwidden. You're lucky they didn't scuttle your career." I'm just trying to jerk his chain.

"You didn't seem to mind. In fact, if memory serves, a certain little Marine Major came by my apartment later with food and we ended up on my bed." Harm tosses that damn grin at me again. Six years of marriage and he still gets away with it.

"Yeah, but we didn't end up engaging the activity I was hoping for." I retort and tent my eyebrows suggestively.

"You mean you wanted to…" He won't say it. Some parts of Harmon Rabb the prude still exist deep down.

"Hell yeah. I figured that if you and I laid down on a bed, that natural Navy jock instinct would take over and you'd, as the song says, make me feel like a natural woman." I edge a little closer to him.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He's really surprised now.

"I didn't want to seem like, well, you know. Why didn't you _do_ anything?" I accuse just so I can put him back on the defensive.

"I didn't want you to think that I was the kind of guy that hit on everything that moved." He answers. "You're telling me that we could have gotten together years earlier but for our puritanical morality?"

"Yeah." I nod. "Ah well," I smack him on the thigh, "think you're in the mood for another squeaking spring symphony, flyboy?" He looks like a kid in a candy shop, I swear this man will never tire of sex, it must be all the hours he spends in uniform stuck behind a desk all day. I think our first few years of marriage have been making up for all the years where we had an emotional connection but there was no physical intimacy.

He takes me by the hand but he might as well be pulling me by the heart. It's the end of a long day after all, and I really do love this man.

_A/N: This is the end of Season one which coincidentally has lasted two years in the storyline. It's also the end of year one of the Ross Presidency. We're going to skip ahead to Year 3 and from their we'll go to year 6 at which point the story ends. Big boo-hoo. But we've decided this will be a trilogy._

_The next story will involve little Sasha Rabb entering a profession that her parents don't approve of and rekindling a friendship that she thought sixteen years dead. _


	28. What Begins With a Blast

Gunny was thanking the heavens and cursing the Gods of the electorate. They got Charlie back today. They had the State of the Union in three weeks and not having their Deputy Chief of Staff around had left Morley and Kat handling Charlie's usual duties. The bitch about the whole thing was that Charlie working over at DCCC hadn't helped any with the House races. The Democrats had lost fifteen seats in the house but picked up six of the retiring seats which meant that they were down from 253 at the beginning of the President's term to 244. Charlie had helped with a few of the Senatorial races though; the party was up two from 57 Senators at the beginning of the President's term to 59 after the November elections.

"Did you guys miss me?" Charlie asked as he entered the bullpen.

"You can't leave anymore." Gunny ordered. "I need someone around here who knows how to deal with politicians. The President and I aren't _that _strong on patience."

"Hell, the way our momentum in the Senate is going, we're going to have representatives from every state by the time the second term rolls around." Charlie plucked a copy of the _Washington Post_ out of his assistant's hands and headed toward his office.

"I can't believe you got a Democrat elected to the Senate from Idaho. Don't they use Democrats for target practice out there?" Gunny caught up to Charlie's stride.

"Hey, don't mock them. The good people of Idaho know a wise choice when they see one." Charlie bent the paper and pointed it at Gunny in a challenge.

"Next you'll be telling me that you're targeting Oklahoma, Wyoming, Kansas and Utah." Gunny chuckled as he stopped. Two years in the White House shifted any hope of non partisanship that you hoped to maintain. You began to forge allegiances to the party that the President was a member of.

"Well, Wyoming and Kansas anyway." Charlie chuckled as he ducked in behind his desk. Year three in the White House. That was one thing about it, no one in here had to worry about campaigning this year. There were no primaries for _them _to worry about, they were in charge, they could govern.

Gunny saw the administration in transition last year. The President's first year had focused largely on foreign policy and last year was a decent mix but he knew this year he wanted to focus on domestic policy and the President had an ambitious agenda in that regard. "Charlie, get to work on finding out what Sam Jordan thinks he can schedule in the House. Then call Senator McLaren and see what he can whip the party votes for. The President has a year's worth of legislation that he wants congressional Democrats to carry for him."

"Fine, but I'm not sure how psyched our friends on the Hill are going to be about the President pushing them to be water-carriers on domestic issues when he isn't all that inclusive on foreign policy stuff." Charlie kicked back.

"You tell Congressional Democrats that if they ever want White House support for anything or if they want the President to attend another $500 a plate rubber chicken fundraiser, they'll remember who put them in control of the government three years ago and do the boss's bidding." Gunny seemed slightly annoyed.

"Will do, Gunny." Charlie nodded and reached for the phone.

"Damn right." Gunny clapped an open palm against a blue folder and headed for the Oval Office. The Third Year started today and they sure as hell weren't going to waste it. They might not be running for re-election yet but Gunny was determined to get enough done this year so that when they were, the American people would have to re-elect them with a record like theirs.

1254 ZULU

ROSENBAUM RESIDENCE

NAHARIYYA, ISRAEL

Tamila and her mother were off in another room while Sergei sat in the living room with her father. He wasn't sure if her father spoke English, he'd only ever heard the man speak Hebrew. "Mr. Rosenbaum?" Sergei chanced and the man nodded at him. "Do you speak English?"

"Well enough to get through some of your Hollywood movies." He answered with a delightfully paternal chuckle.

"Sir, I would like to know if I might have your daughter's hand in marriage." Sergei blurted out as quickly as possible.

"There is no civil marriage in Israel, you would have to convert to Judaism, you know this?" The older man asked. "If you do this, then you can have my permission." The thick Israeli accent leaked through into his speech and muddled his English.

"Papa, Sergei, I'm going to pick up Binyamin from school, I'll be back in a few minutes." Tamila shouted as she headed for the door.

"See you later, sweetheart!" Sergei shouted just before he heard the door close. "How have things been around here since the peace talks a few years ago?"

"They have been quieter. We are outside the territories so Hamas is not so much a problem for us here as it would be in Jerusalem or in Gaza." The old man curled his fingers around the cup on the small end table. "Our greatest concern here is Hezbollah. Since the talks, Lebanon and Syria have been forced by the UN to crackdown on terrorist activities along the northern border. The reallocation of western foreign aid has made Hezbollah's humanitarian efforts in Southern Lebanon ineffectual and their children no longer go to Madrasah. Israel will never be completely safe but this year has been the most peaceful that I have ever experienced."

"Tamila said that you served in the Army." Sergei decided to attempt to find some common ground with the man who would be his father in law.

"All Israeli men and women served in the Army. I picked a particularly rough time to serve. I was in from 1966 until 1976. I saw service in the Sinai on both occasions." He answered, settling back in his chair. "My parents came here in 1947 after the war. The Russians liberated them from Auschwitz; they were among a very lucky few. I'm a Sabra, my family are as well, Israel is our home. Military service is not something that we take for granted in Israel."

"It is not something that we take for granted in the United States either." Sergei answered. "My father, grandfather and brother all served in the Navy as pilots and my sister in law served in the Marines as I do."

"I know, Tamila has told me. I know what she does as well. She has never told me explicitly of course but there is an understanding in a family. The fact that she cannot tell me everything tells me something." The old man was obviously rather wise. "You will learn these things if you spend enough time with Israeli women."

"My brother always feels the need to remind me that relationships are a lot of work. As if I could not tell this for myself." Sergei chuckled. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket against his thigh and he reached for it. "Rabb."

"Hi honey." Tamila's voice chirped through the phone. "The car quit outside Binyamin's school so we're going to be a little late in coming home. We have to take the bus. It stops at the corner down the street from the house."

"See you then." Sergei smiled and closed the phone.

"Tamila?" Her father asked.

"Yes, the car had some troubles outside of Binyamin's school. They're taking the bus home; it'll take a little while longer." Sergei gave a passing grin as he stared down at the phone in his hands. He suddenly had a bed feeling in the pit of his stomach. He brought his fingers up to his temple. It was a weird Marine's intuition.

"The bus should be by any minute now. My wife knows the schedule by heart; she takes it to go to the Market." He mused. The two men sat their in an awkward silence for a few minutes before Sergei felt the need to get to his feet and begin pacing. He lightly scratched the back hairline on his head and kept pacing the carpet floor.

The uneasy feeling in his head had spread to his gut. Sergei couldn't take it anymore, he reached for the phone. He wanted to tell her not to go anywhere, that he'd meet them where they were to come and pick them up. He wanted to tell them all that, but his action was interrupted by the sound of a loud explosion that echoed from down the street.

1315 ZULU

THE CHURCH OF ST. FRANCIS

SANREMO, ITALY

"Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting for the first time in public: Admiral and Mrs. Ethan Baxter." The little Old Italian priest played heavy on his Latin inflections. There was clapping and whistling as the happy couple headed down the aisle. Harm, Sturgis and Keeter were standing off to Bax's side of the alter while Mac, Harriet and Tracy Mannetti stood off to the bride's side. The whole plane ride over to Italy, all Harm heard from Mac was why didn't they get married in Europe and why didn't they go on their honeymoon in Italy. She seemed to have a real like of the country. Harm had to remind her that their first trip to Italy together with Admiral Chegwidden hadn't gone over so well in that Harm and the Admiral both almost ended up getting killed in a mob war. He also reminded her that Italy, Naples specifically, had been one port of call on the Mediterranean cruise that they had gone on for their honeymoon.

Trish and Frank had the kids while they were in Italy and Mac had had to cancel only one lecture to make time to come over for the wedding. She loved these told Italian cathedrals, they were much bigger then the churches back home. She and Harm rarely went; they were the C&E kind of Church-going folk. That was one thing that Europe gave the was absent in Virginia. In Europe, you felt like your spirituality was a private matter; in Virginia, the heart of evangelism, bible thumping and Liberty University; even if you didn't want your spirituality to be a public matter, there were people willing to drag it out to the forefront and if necessary, beat you with their own spirituality from high atop their bully pulpit.

The reception was beautiful; Jen and Bax really were a couple that looked good together and they seemed to make each other happy. She placed her hand on her husband's and was suddenly taken back to a time eight years earlier when two much younger people stood facing each other in an outdoor ceremony on a wonderfully sunny day. She gazed into her husband's eyes for a few seconds. "Can you believe Bax finally got married?" She whispered.

"It took him long enough." Harm chuckled. "I'm sure his parents never thought they'd see this day. I still can't believe that Bobbi's pregnant, I don't think I've ever see Chaplain Turner so happy."

"I swear, I thought he was going to leap out of his chair and click his heels together when he heard." Mac added and the two of them shared another laugh. Harm's cell phone rang and Harm reached into the inside pocket of his dress whites. "Harm don't answer." Mac pleaded.

"I have to." He cupped his wife's cheek. "It could be important." Harm flipped open the cell phone. "Rabb." There were a few seconds of random ranting in a language that Harm knew he had heard before but didn't completely understand. It took him a few more seconds to catch on to what was going on, but he eventually got a handle on the situation. "Sergei, calm down."

At the mention of her brother in law's name, Mac's attentiveness was attached to Harm's cell phone. "What happened?" She mouthed to him. Harm shrugged.

"What happened?" He asked his brother who continued to rant on in Russian. "He's speaking Russian; I have no idea what he's saying." Mac motioned for the phone.

"Sergei, calm down." Mac told him. "Breathe, do something, but just calm down and tell me what happened." She nodded as Sergei led her through what was going on in his surroundings on the other end of the line. She bid him goodbye and closed the phone. "Harm, we need to get back to the hotel and get on a flight to Ben-Gurion International Airport."

"In Tel-Aviv?" Harm questioned. "What the hell happened?"

"Just tell Bax that we're leaving right after you deliver your toast. Something bad has happened and Sergei needs us." Mac handed Harm the phone and he nodded at his wife.

"Never a dull moment, huh?" He whispered.

"Not a one." She replied.

MINUTES EARLIER

NAHARIYYA, ISRAEL

Sergei Rabb and Yigal Rosenbaum headed down the street at a full pace. For a man of sixty, Mr. Rosenbaum was keeping pace step for step with the thirty year old Marine. The bus that was due to stop at the corner had stopped, and in doing so, had given the suicide bomber on board his opportunity to do the most damage. The fire was still blazing but local citizens were doing their level best to control it while still others participated in the rescue attempt. Sergei had never seen anything like this in his life, it made him violently sick to his stomach. There was charred bodies, people being burned alive and pedestrians crushed under some of the bus debris.

Sergei was quick to help try and free people who had been trapped under parts of the bus. "Tamila!" He shouted hoping that he would get some recognition. "Tamila!" He helped a few more people out of the wreck. He could feel the heat from the fire around him grazing the skin and the hair on his arms as the hot metal that he was lifting off of people was burning his hands but he didn't really care about that at the moment. "Tamila!" He called again, he heard somebody cough, it sounded familiar, tiny and feminine.

"Sergei!" He heard a small and laboured voice call from somewhere in the wreckage. Sergei jogged through what remained of the bus until he got to her. She'd been burned in the blast and had taken a few parts of a bus seat to the torso. He put his hands on her cheeks to cradle her head.

"Stay with me, damn it!" He was fighting tears.

"I can't, hurts so much, Sergei." She forced her eyes closed to hold back tears. Parts of the right side of her face were burned a heavy crimson. There were eschars on her face and charring around her hairline. "I love you, Sergei. I know I didn't say it enough."

"Don't mind that, we can make up for it just stay with me." He couldn't hold back the tears anymore they were running down his face. "I love you." He lightly kissed the left side of her forehead and picked her up out of the wreckage and carried her over toward her father. "Tamila," he brushed the hair out of her face, "please stay with me."

"It hurts, Sergei." She answered.

"I know." The tears ran off his cheeks and down on the burns on her face. The EMTs on site rushed over and took her from him to load her into the ambulance. She began to seize on the gurney. The paramedics rushed into help her. The fact that he wasn't fluent in Hebrew worked against him. "What's happening?" He shouted. The paramedics ignored him. Not that he could blame him; they were trying to save her life he guessed. "What's happening? What's going on?" He demanded but there was one thing that didn't require any translation and that was the looks on their faces when they hung their heads and slowly gave them a shake.

"She's dead?" Yigal walked over to stand next to the man who wanted to be his son in law.

"She's dead." Sergei pursed his lips together and hung his head to cry heavily. Sergei's knees buckled and he sank to the ground. "She's dead!" He almost shouted it as if to curse the heavens. He sniffled hard and wiped his nose on his wrist. "What about Binyamin?"

"A broken arm and a broken ankle. He was off the bus when the bomb went off and the blast vaulted him behind a wall. The landing broke some bones but nothing so serious." Yigal was beginning to cry himself. "I always figured that she was invincible. That her smile made her that way, she just had this light. I didn't think anything could snuff it out. Even as a little girl she had it." Yigal gave Sergei a pat on the back. "Come, you will sit shi'vah with us. You may not have been a part of the family, but I believe that if time had permitted, you would have been." The two men dusted themselves off as they got to their feet. The bodies from the blast would be hauled off to the morgue so that the Medical Examiner could do an investigation. Sergei carried Binyamin Rosenbaum as the three of them headed back to the house. "You ought to give your family a call. You need people around you to support you." Yigal suggested.

Sergei nodded and handed Binyamin to Yigal before pulling out his cell phone to call his brother.

1451 ZULU

EN ROUTE TO MILAN

NORTHERN ITALY

"Are you calling Johnny and Mikey? They'll want to be there for Sergei too." Mac asked as their driver took them toward Milan. "Is Johnny even back from his latest tour on the _Stennis_?"

"_Stennis_ came back into port six weeks ago." Harm answered. "Think we should give Anna a call?"

"I think that would be a very bad idea, Harm." Mac shot her husband a look that said 'have you completely lost your mind?'

"I just figured that he would want _all_ his friends around him. Then again I'm not sure that I could cut orders for all of them to get them emergency leave." Harm scratched the back of his head. "I'm sorry, Mac, I just can't remember the last time anything like this happened."

"It would have had to be Diane wouldn't it?" She asked as the car passed a sign that basically told them that they had reached Milan. She put a hand on her husband's shoulder. "Your brother must be going through hell."

"I can't imagine. The only thing I can think of to approximate this would be that time we were on the _Watertown_ and Hodge almost killed you." He ran a hand through her hair.

"Yeah, well you had to be the hero and bring me back from the dead." She chuckled as she continued to gaze into her husband's eyes. "We'll get him out of this you know?"

"Yeah, I know." He nodded. "I called mom and Frank; she said they had no problem keeping an eye on the kids for a few more days. Sergei said that Mr. Rosenbaum invited him to sit shi'vah with the family which means that Sergei's going to spend another week in Israel before heading home."

"It's good for him to grieve; they were together for eighteen months, that's a long time for any non-marital relationship to last." She wrapped her arms around him for a quick second as the drive pulled up curb-side in front of the terminal. Harm tossed the driver a tip, his services had been covered by Bax previously before he and Mac exited the vehicle. Harm pulled their luggage out of the trunk and the two of them headed for the terminal.

"Let's just hope that we can get on a flight." Harm grunted as the two of them rushed toward the El Al desk in Terminal One and Malpensa Airport. Harm was trying to catch his breath by the time that they finally got to the desk. "Any chance that we might be able to get on the next flight to Ben-Gurion?" Mac asked, slightly winded herself.

"You wouldn't happen to be the Rabb party would you?" The attendant asked.

"Yeah." Mac nodded. "That's us. How did you know?"

"An Admiral Baxter called and said that you were coming and that I should reserve two tickets. He said that I would recognize Mr. Rabb because he would be dressed like an American Vice Admiral in Dress White uniform." The attendant smiled at Mac and handed her the tickets. "The Admiral also told me to pass on the message that the tickets were 'on him' as they expression goes."

Harm smiled at his wife. "You ever think that the Navy pays four stars way too much?" He chuckled as she handed him his ticket. The two of them headed for the terminal gate, walking this time and waited patiently for the boarding call that would take them to Tel-Aviv.

1516 ZULU

THE OVAL OFFICE

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

"Boss, have you heard about the suicide bomb that went off in Nahariyya?" Gunny burst through the door into the oval office.

"I get ZNN, Gunny." The President looked from a Commerce report at his Chief of Staff. "I also know exactly what Prime Minister Nahon is going to do, so I don't see any reason to call him. Tonight, he'll send around Israeli security forces and Sayeret in order to round up a few Hamas leaders."

"Morley and Kat are going nuts trying to come up with language for the State of the Union, boss." Gunny took a seat. "Last year's 'An Age of Peace, Prosperity and Promise' was great; we got a six point bump in the polls after that speech."

"We don't govern by polls, Gunny." Nate reminded his Chief of Staff as he tossed the report on to the desk.

"Damn pity with our numbers, sir. You haven't been under sixty percent all term." Gunny tossed the latest poll on to the table. "And that's a graph showing Fox News polls. I've got Stacy running the ZNN/Time/Gallup poll tracker; she should be in here in a few minutes."

"I think we should focus on domestic issues this year, Gunny. We passed that education reform in year one and that helped but we need to do something big." Nate got up out of the chair. "Get a policy group together and go over the tax code for the richest one percent. I want to know what we could do to make tuition more affordable for working class families at public universities."

"You're talking about subsidizing university tuition?" Gunny was starting to like this kind of stuff. It made him feel like he was making a real difference in the country.

"Not all tuition, Gunny, I just want to knock the price down and make it a little more reasonable. If more kids went to university, we'd have more people in the higher tax brackets and the government would generate more revenue which would allow us to spend more on social programs without going into debt." Nate paced the floor. "Better get Charlie in on this one. He's the one who goes up to the hill and conscripts water-carriers."

"On it, boss." Gunny made a quick note on his clipboard. "Want to get up on anything involving healthcare right now? Patient's Bill of Rights?"

"No, we're Democrats, we campaign on those issues. In the first term, we go for what will get us a second term. No clutching at third rails yet. We'll save some big saving graces for term two." Nate sat back on the edge of his desk.

"Alright, so, co-ordinate some nice domestic policy language with Charlie and the Legislative Affairs desk." He slid the pen on to the top of the clipboard. "Anything else you want me to do, boss?"

"Yeah, see if you can get political affairs working a little more closely some of the moderate Republicans to get the legislative agenda passed this year. I'd like to head into the next election looking like a uniting figure rather then a divisive one." Nate nodded at his Chief of Staff.

"Getting really real on us, isn't it boss?" Gunny asked, slightly in awe.

"Real as it gets." Nate replied.

2341 ZULU

BEN-GURION INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

TEL-AVIV, ISRAEL

Harm and Mac got off the plane. The time difference between Italy and Israel wasn't that drastic so jet lag wasn't as much of a problem. Harm had his dress white jacket unbuttoned and his white muscle shirt. His cover was adjusted on a slant on his head. Sergei was waiting for them in the terminal near the baggage claim. Mac sent Harm over to get the luggage and she rushed over to give her brother in law a big hug.

"How are you? Are you hurt?" Mac immediately went into maternal mode to look over Sergei to see if he was injured. She saw the dark charred skin on the palms of his hands. "Did you do something like your brother would have done?" Sergei hung his head and nodded. He maintained his composure for a few more seconds before wrapping Mac in a big bear hug and crying into her shoulder.

"I can't believe she's gone." He lamented, his tears staining the jacket that Mac had wrapped over her shoulders. Mac lightly tried to soothe Sergei as Harm came over with the bags to join them.

"We're here for you." Harm put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "How're you hanging in there?"

"It just all seems so senseless, Arabs kill more Israelis, then the Israelis kill more Arabs. It's an eye for an eye that's bound to leave the whole damn region blind." Sergei toughened his resolve. "I'd never seen anything like it before in my life. The explosion, the fire," Sergei felt that swelling sickness in the pit of his stomach, "I can't close my eyes without reliving the whole damn scene. There's nothing like it, I mean if there's a God there can't be anything like that in the world." Sergei pulled back and his expression took on a chilling cold quality, his eyes became deep and haunted. "There's a smell." He shook his head from side to side slowly.

"It must have been horribly troubling for you." Mac took him by the arm as he led them out toward the car.

"That wasn't the worst of it. The most troubling thing was that they know what to do around here when this kind of thing happens. How do you ever condition yourself to deal with blowing themselves up on your doorstep? How do you condition yourself to people hating you without knowing you but just hating you because of who you are where you live?" He gave his shoulders a shrug. "I understand the psychology of these people now. I understand why, in a way that I never did before."

Mac opened the trunk lid and Harm slid the luggage inside. "We're here for you now." Harm assured his brother. "If that counts for anything."

"More then you know." Sergei, still teary-eyed turned and gave his brother a big hug. "I was going to ask her to marry me."

"I'm sorry, Sergei." Harm answered.

"You're a good brother." Sergei gave a nod and the three of them loaded into the car.


	29. Edicts of a New Millennium

"T-minus seventy-hours until the State of the Union, Morley, aren't you getting ready to head home yet?" Gunny ducked his head inside the office of the White House Communications Director.

"I don't expect to leave the building until the speech is delivered Tuesday evening, Gunny." Morley answered. "Why aren't you headed home, boss? I thought your Mom was coming up from New Mexico this weekend?"

"She's at my apartment now. She's going to mass tomorrow with me and the President and his family and Stacy." Gunny averted his eyes as he mentioned the Press Secretary's name.

"Stacy's going? It's just church." Morley looked confused.

"With approximately two days until the State of the Union, Morley, the President doesn't go anywhere public without someone who can buffer between him and the Press." Gunny answered as he wrangle his coat over his shoulders. "Last year's speech was pretty good, why don't you just work from that?"

"Because in last year's speech we could get away with stuff because we were an administration who had won a Nobel Peace Prize in their first year. We were already ahead of the pack. This year we just have to try not to fall behind." Morley scratched his pen against the yellow legal pad. "I'll be lucky to get this done for Monday evening."

"You better, the President is going to want to go over it a couple dozen times and polish it before he reads it in front of Congress, the Joint Chiefs, Supreme Court and fifty million Americans on TV." Gunny gave the doorframe a tap. "No pressure."

"Yeah, right." The Communications Director nodded. "Charlie's down the hall."

"Doing what?" Gunny stopped walking away just long enough to hear the explanation.

"Policy." Morley rolled his eyes. "Like you said, less then three days until the State of the Union; he's working on policy, we've got to barnstorm from coast to coast for the next month, railing for what was in the State of the Union."

"And I have to run the shop here, I know." Gunny rolled his eyes. "You and Morley get to take the show on the road and I get bolted to a desk here in Washington."

"Do you really want to go to Nebraska, Iowa and Georgia in the middle of winter?" Morley leaned on his elbow. "On a bus with a dozen staffers crammed inside and the President's entire secret service detail, you really think you're missing out on something?"

"No, but still I'd rather travel then sit in my office and get a White House tan." Gunny headed off down the hall towards the doors.

0103 ZULU

SERGEI'S APARTMENT

SOUTH OF ROCK CREEK PARK

"Alright, now just remember what Harm and Mac said, he's really depressed and he's been drinking. Apparently he and Harm got into a shouting match the last time that Harm was over so, we have to go easy on him." Anna looked at Mikey and Johnny who just nodded indicating a very simplistic understanding. She proceeded to knock on the door. The three of them stood outside for a few seconds waiting for Sergei to answer the knock.

"What are you three doing here?" Sergei's eyes were bloodshot and his hands slightly trembling.

"We heard about what happened, figured you would want some friends around." Johnny-Reb jumped in. His tall frame would hopefully be enough to stem the Russian's hot temper. "Would have gotten here sooner but this was the earliest that all three of us could get emergency leave. Hell, Mikey's destroyer just got into port at Norfolk last night."

"Fine, come in." Sergei rolled his eyes and pushed the door aside. The three of them walked into the apartment to find a bottle of Stolichnaya Vodka on the coffee table and the TV was turned up to an ungodly volume as an old John Wayne movie. Mikey made a careful mental not that there was no shot-glass in sight and that indicated to him that Sergei was drinking straight from the bottle. Johnny looked in the trash bin to see that this probably wasn't Sergei's first bottle in recent days.

"Sergei, you're going to have to move passed the point where all you do is drink in order to grieve." Johnny lifted the bottle of vodka off the table. "You've got to go back to work Monday or they're going to count you as UA."

"Thanks very much for that, Reb, because I never read the Naval Officer's Guide." Sergei tossed in an annoyed tone at his friend. "If you all came by here to lecture me, then get the fuck out." Sergei got out of his chair, his anger seeping through and colouring his face a dark crimson.

"Sit the hell down, Rabb." Johnny got right back in his face, it was the Texan in him that refused to back down from a fight. "You really think that I'm going to let you sit here and drink yourself into a coma?"

"I really don't see why you give a damn!" Sergei lashed back. "I just lost the woman I love! Can't you leave me alone? Give me some time to grieve?"

"We just want to help you." Anna sat down on the couch next to him and put her hand on his back. "We're your friends, Sergei; we're not here to attack you."

"The best way you can help me is to just leave me alone." He huffed, his head still in his hands. "I'm never going to get out of this……this funk if I don't pull myself out of it." He gave her a quick grin and a pat to the knee. "Don't worry; I'll be back in the driver's seat on Marine One come Monday morning."

He gently ushered the three of them back toward the door. Johnny-Reb wasn't crazy; he could tell when he was being pushed out. He slightly resisted but Sergei did seem a little more stable now then he had been even two minutes earlier. The two men didn't but heads on the way out, Johnny, Anna and Mikey just went silently and Sergei closed the door behind them.

"Well, that was certainly productive." Johnny rolled his eyes and tossed a sideways glance at Anna.

"He's repressing." Mikey warned.

"Of course he's repressing, when was the last time that any of us actually talked to him?" Anna scolded the other two. "If we're actually going to get through to him we may just have to leave him the hell alone, maybe that _is_ the way he deals with things."

"Would be uniquely Rabb, wouldn't it?" Mikey chuckled as the three friends headed down the hall.

"Bagel and a coffee?" Anna inquired of her two friends as they moved toward the stairs.

"Sure, why not." Johnny pushed open the door to the stairwell

1356 ZULU, SUNDAY

BASILICA OF THE NATIONAL SHRINE OF THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION

WASHINGTON, DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA

Gunny walked up the steps of the church with his mother at his side. There was some tragic news that had forced him awake around five in the morning. Justice Bernie Malden had died at age eighty-one. This wasn't the kind of thing that you wanted to have happen on the eve of a State of the Union, not when you were a Democrat and the Justice who just died was a standard bearer of the conservative judiciary who had sat on the court for twenty-five years. He'd spent two and a half hours on the phone this morning with Charlie whom he had to implore to get the vetting going to fill Justice Malden's seat and then Morley whom he had to talk down off about eight different walls because he now had to re-write an entire paragraph of the State of the Union.

"Morning, Mr. President." Gunny reached out and shook his boss's hand.

"Morning, Gunny." Nate smiled at his Chief of Staff. "This must be the mother you've been telling us about all week."

"Yes, sir." Gunny nodded. "Mr. President, this is my mother Elena Galindez." Ms. Galindez extended her hand to shake Nate's and looked at the President as if in awe.

"I vote for you and I got all my friends to vote for you." She smiled at Nate.

"I guess that's why won New Mexico, sir." Gunny chuckled.

"Let's just make sure we win it next time." Nate laughed along with his Chief of Staff. "Who was your favourite President, Ms. Galindez?"

"Mr. Kennedy." The old Hispanic woman nodded at him. "You're not Mr. Kennedy yet, but you could be."

"She's got the right party anyway, sir." Gunny laughed nervously before trying to shift the conversation.

"I'm guessing you guys heard about Justice Malden?" Stacy walked up the steps of the church to join the Presidential entourage.

"You think these two got any sleep since it happened?" Peach remarked sarcastically.

"We heard." Gunny nodded. "Think it will come up in the Cardinal's sermon today?"

"You think that a conservative Catholic is going to miss an opportunity to beat me over the head with abortion?" Nate raised an eyebrow at his Chief of Staff. "It's going to come up. He's not going to come right out and say it, but he'll allude to it strongly enough that even a blind-deaf-mute would get the hint."

"I'm not going to have to strap you down to the pew to prevent you from launching out of your seat and debating the Cardinal, am I sir?" Gunny questioned and the group shared a chuckle.

"No, Gunny, he'll be fine." Peach took her husband by the wrist. "If you try and argue with a priest, no fun for a month." She whispered in her husband's ear and Nate hung his head.

"So, Victor, who is this young lady that you have not introduced me to?" Elena Galindez motioned toward Stacy. The President looked on with interest, he knew that a mother's questions had a probative value that an FBI agent could only dream of possessing.

"Oh, Ma, this is Stacy Anderson the White House Press Secretary." Gunny smiled quickly. "Stacy, this is my mom, Elena."

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Galindez." Stacy hunched herself over slightly, her 5'9" frame dwarfing Gunny's tiny mother.

"So, you're the one he's always talking about?" Elena eyed Stacy down. "When I call him, Victor talks about you all the time. About how you're so good at your job that you make his days easier. Of course, he always kinds of trails off when I talk about how pretty you are, dear."

"Does he?" Stacy shifted her gaze to look at Gunny.

"Mom." Gunny warned.

"Oh, hush up, Victor." Elena Galindez challenged her son.

"I think the service is starting." Peach attempted to defuse the situation and gently guide everyone into the church.

1309 ZULU, MONDAY

THE WEST WING

WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

"Hey." Gunny nodded at Charlie who came walking down the hallway.

"Hey, did you talk to the President about the Malden vacancy yesterday?"

"Try talking to him about anything else." Gunny rolled his eyes. "Even the State of the Union is taking a back seat to this."

"Yeah, well, we've got people outside the gate who are worried that we're going to put some radical baby killer on the court." Charlie grinned weakly.

"Radical baby killer?" Gunny raised his eyebrow at Charlie as the two of them walked through the hallways toward the briefing room.

"Honest to God it was on a sign when I walked in this morning." Charlie rolled his neck around. "I've got the vetting list done for judiciary nominees."

"Did you call them and tell them that we're going to walk them in front of the cameras today?" Gunny pushed open the door to the briefing room to watch Stacy act like chum to the sharks of the press corps.

"I did." Charlie nodded just as Stacy concluded the briefing. She walked down off the podium and joined the two of them. Within seconds, they were heading back toward their offices. "I think it'll be Justice Hearn from the Second Circuit."

"Good choice." Stacy added as they kept pace down the hall. "She's smart; she's young, unabashedly liberal. Congressional Democrats will love her."

"She'd also be the first black woman to serve on the court; which serves its own symbolic electoral purpose." Gunny interjected as they rounded a corner into the bullpen. "Charlie, was Professor Rabb on your list?"

"Yeah, but I don't think she's written enough opinions yet, boss." The group of three stopped. "I know, but get her in here anyway; I want a few of the ZNN and MSNBC cameras to speculate."

"Where are you going, Gunny?" Stacy asked as Gunny turned on heel.

"Got to brief the President on whom we're going to be putting in front of him today for the vacancy on the court. After that, I plan on restocking Morley's Rolaids so that the State of the Union is finished polishing by five o'clock." He took a breath. "We're thirty six hours out after all."

"Indeed we are." Charlie and Stacy nodded at Gunny before heading back to their offices. Gunny walked through his office to the door that led into the oval office. "Morning, sir. Did you get those papers from the OMB?"

"Yes, but at this point I'm more interested in the papers from the communications department. What the heck is going on over there? I'm a hundred feet from the place and I can't get one single speech from them?" Nate got up from behind the desk.

"The DNC, State Department and congressional Democratic leadership wanted to look it over before they let you polish it up." Gunny braced himself for the inevitable backlash of sarcasm.

"Oh well, that's awful nice of them. This is supposed to be _my_ vision for the country but I can see why they would need input into that." The President rolled his eyes. "Have Kat call the DNC, the State Department and whoever the hell else you just listed and tell them that the purpose of a State of the Union is that the _President_ tells the country how we're doing and where we go from here."

"You want me to word it a little better then that, right, sir? Because next year's an election year and it's probably a bad idea to piss off the DNC, congressional leadership and State Department before an election." Gunny advised.

"Word it however the hell you like Gunny." Nate smiled quickly. "What do we have today for the Malden vacancy?"

"We've got a few circuit court judges coming in to talk with you, sir, and Professor Rabb is coming in as well." Gunny tapped the folder.

"Mac's coming in for the Malden vacancy? That should make for an interesting meeting." The President sat down on the couch. "She's not ready yet."

"Getting awful close, sir." Gunny counselled.

"I know, Gunny. Let's just get the people who are ready in here today." Nate nodded at his Chief of Staff who went on his way.

1903 ZULU

THE ROOSEVELT ROOM

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

Mac sat in the empty Roosevelt Room idly thumbing through that morning's issue of the Washington Post and trying not to rush to the playoff football scores. It looked like a Washington-Philadelphia match-up in the NFC and New England-Baltimore in the AFC. She looked up to see Gunny walking through the door with his jacket off and the cuffs of his shirt sleeves turned up.

"Afternoon, professor." Gunny smiled as he took a seat at the table.

"Afternoon, Gunny." Mac nodded at him. He sure had come a long way from that Marine that she had examined on the stand a dozen years earlier.

"Why am I here, Gunny?" Mac cut to the chase, she hated being pulled away from home.

"The Malden vacancy." Gunny didn't look up from the papers in front of him.

"You want me to advise the President on who should fill the Malden vacancy?" She asked.

"No, the President has listed you as a candidate to fill the vacancy on the Supreme Court." Gunny looked up at Mac. "We do have a problem with your lack of written opinions on federal cases."

"Well, I've never sat on a federal bench." Mac quipped with a quick smile. "You have a problem with my lack of a written opinion on _Roe .v. Wade_, that's what you have a problem with."

"Come on, General." Gunny fell back on old habits. "You know both the President and me better then that. Roe never came up. It probably should have in retrospect but it didn't."

"Who's the President thinking of to fill the vacancy? I ran into Rita Hearn in the parking lot, is it her?" Mac slouched back in her chair.

"I can't say, but it looks like the President is tilting that way." Gunny made a few notes on the pad of paper. "You were on the short list of candidates."

"But we come back to the fact that I don't have a wealth of written opinions and I'm not likely to get by the Senate confirmation process without them." Mac crossed her legs. "So, what happens now?"

"Well, in about fifteen seconds the President is going to come walking through those doors. He's going to talk to you for a few minutes about your views on a few key decisions that the court has handed down, I'll take a few notes and then he'll shake your hand, you'll be free to go and I'll file this with our vetting files on you and then we'll dust it off if there's another vacancy in the coming years." Gunny stood up when he heard the door click behind him. Mac stood up when she saw Nate enter the room.

"Good afternoon, Mr. President." Mac smiled at Nate as he walked across the room.

"Afternoon, Mac." The two of them shared a quick hug. "How are things over at GWU?"

"You remember what university was like? Well, kind of like that only I have to orally present two lectures a week to an auditorium of two hundred wide-eyed kids." Mac smiled. "It's been fun though."

"I bet." Nate chuckled. "Gunny tell you why you're hear?"

"The Malden vacancy. That's a heck of an honour to consider for someone whose only been lecturing for a few years." Mac adjusted herself in the chair. "Gunny also told me the one flaw with my candidacy."

"If you keep contributing to those legal journals, you'll be a well rounded candidate though. You sat on the bench for the military court of appeals, you're teaching at Georgetown, you're an excellent candidate you're just not…" Nate shook his head slightly.

"Ready yet?" Mac chanced, her stomach sinking slightly at having to say that herself. "No confidence in me, Mr. President."

"Plenty of confidence in you, Mac. No confidence in the confirmation process." He smiled.

"Are you going to nominate Judge Hearn for the vacancy?" Mac asked as she and everyone else in the room got to their feet.

"I think that's how the wind is blowing." Nate nodded.

"The first black woman Supreme Court Justice? I think it's about time." She smiled genuinely. "Thank you for your time, Mr. President."

"No, Mac, thank you. I know how you hate being away from your kids after work for anything." The two of them shook hands and Mac shook hands with Gunny before being escorted by Secret Service out of the West Wing.

"Pity, sir, she's a great candidate." Gunny pondered as the two of them started walking toward the oval office.

"Yeah, Gunny, I know. But there'll be other vacancies and they will be ours to fill." Nate pushed open the door to the oval.

"Provided we get re-elected next year." Gunny reminded him.

"Keep the faith, Gunny." Nate walked around the desk and picked up the small pile of white papers in the middle of it. "Morley's draft of the State of the Union."

"Any good?" Gunny watched his boss thumb through it. He stopped at one page and began to read aloud.

"The edicts of a new millennium must be free of the fears and the inequalities of the old one. Our construct must be social justice and we must shoulder that construct as a great beacon of hope unto our fellow man." Nate nodded satisfactorily.

"He hasn't lost his touch." Gunny remarked.

"No, no he certainly hasn't." Nate sat down in his chair and continued to read the speech.

2110 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"Evening, sunshine." Harm smiled at his wife who came walking through the front door of the house. He was making a few omelettes for the kids. "You're a little late getting home."

"I was at the White House." Mac shrugged off her coat and dropped her briefcase to the floor.

"Doing what, Professor Rabb?" Harm raised a curious eyebrow at his wife. "To my knowledge, university professors don't get called into the White House on every occasion?"

"It was about the Malden vacancy on the court. President wanted to ask me for a little advice and a quick heads up." She swung open the fridge door and pulled out an orange juice. "The President is going to nominate a very good jurist to replace Bernie Malden's spot on the court and he told me to write a few more legal opinions in the next few years."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" Harm walked over and wrapped his arms around his wife.

"I got the distinct impression that he wanted to put me on the court. I really do. But he told me that I just had written enough opinions to stand up under the scrutiny of the Senate." She smiled at him quickly and put her hands on her husband's forearms.

"Would you want to do that? Sit on the Supreme Court of the United States?" Harm asked as Mac spun in his arms to look at him.

"I think, I don't know, maybe. I just don't want my personal life and my professional life surgically dissected and I know that's what would happen if all of a sudden in order to get a really good job, I need to be the subject of a Senate investigation." She smirked. "I kind of wanted it. All in all, I knew that I wasn't going to get it. I'm a little too young and a little too inexperienced with judicial opinions but damn it, Harm, I wanted that job."

"It's okay, honey, I'm sure this isn't the last time that something like this will come around." Harm wrapped Mac in a tight hug. Mac felt a slight tug at her skirt and she looked down to see her wide-eyed little girl gazing up at her.

"Mommy, are you sad?" Little Sasha Rabb asked in her innocent soprano.

"No, honey, Mommy's not sad, just a little annoyed." Mac smiled at her daughter and muffled her hair.

"Oh, okay." Sasha turned to go and climb into a chair at the table. "Mommy, what's annoyed?"

"You know that tone of voice that mommy gets when daddy leaves a trail of socks leading up the stairs?" Mac bent over to look her daughter in the eye. Sasha nodded quickly with a wide grin. "That's what annoyed is."

"So, daddy makes you annoyed? What did daddy do?" Sasha Rabb looked puzzled.

"No, honey, daddy didn't do anything, it was just something from work today." Mac chuckled a little, remembering when things were this simple for her.

"Oh okay." The child nodded and picked up her knife and fork. "Dad, where's the food?"

2449 ZULU, TUESDAY

THE US CAPITOL BUILDING

WASHINGTON, DC

"Alright, sir, remember, smart but not too smart. Don't lean over the podium, stand straight up. Don't use your arms too much and keep your eyes trained on the camera." Gunny and the White House staff walked with the President toward the doors to the House of Representatives.

"And don't alter any of the language. We're going to have to rotate copies of the text to the major new outlets once the speech is done and if you break from the text at all, they're going to analyze it to death. We want them focusing on the substance not the semantic." Stacy stopped on the spot and dusted off her jacket.

"Not to mention the fact that the State Department is well known for throwing shitfits if we decide to bypass them on any language having to do with national security and foreign policy." Morley was still chewing his gum.

"The three of you seem to forget that I've delivered two State of the Union addresses before." Nate straightened his collar and tightened his tie.

"Yes, but no offence, sir," Gunny interrupted, "the expectations for your first State of the Union are always low and you delivered last year's State of the Union while riding the biggest foreign policy coup since the Cuban Missile Crisis, the context of last year doesn't exist this year. Last year was your Kennedy year; this year has to be your Roosevelt year." Gunny nodded at his boss.

"Thanks for reminding me that I've got some big damn shoes to fill, Gunny. Are you trying to give me stage fright in front of 435 members of Congress, 100 Senators, the Cabinet, the Joint Chiefs _and_ the Supreme Court?" Nate tried to keep a straight face.

"No, uh no, sir, I wasn't, I'm just saying that…" Gunny was beginning to ramble.

"Stand easy, Gunny." Nate laughed.

"Ten seconds, Mr. President." The Sergeant at Arms of the House told him.

"Thank you." Nate nodded at him. "Alright, boys and girls, show time." Nate straightened his jacket and turned to face the door. The doors swung wide open and the Sergeant at Arms marched halfway down the aisle before stopping. All the eyes in the room were focused on him.

"Mr. Speaker, the President of the United States!" Nate walked down the aisle with his staffers behind him, headed for their seats in the chamber. He climbed the steps to shake hands with House Speaker Sam Jordan and President Pro Tempore of the Senate Mills Paulson before turning to stand tall behind the microphone. Gunny and Stacy had snuck back into the hallways outside the House. They were going to head up into the gallery with the First Lady. They walked into the gallery and took their seats.

"What part of the speech did he just finish?" Gunny whispered to the First Lady as he adjusted in his seat.

"Edicts of a new millennium." Nicole whispered back.

"Some of Morley's best writing." Stacy whispered, he breath gently dancing across the side of Gunny's neck. "We did it." She whispered when he turned back to face her.

"Well, I promise I'll respect you in the morning." Gunny smiled and laughed. She smacked him across the shoulder. "We've got the press conference to announce Judge Hearn tomorrow morning. After that, the President is on Air Force One headed out to St. Louis."

"Is this your coy way of reminding me that we have the White House all to ourselves for the next three and a half weeks?" She bit her bottom lip in a cute way that was silently driving him insane.

"Well not all to ourselves, we've still got hundreds of staffers, a gaggle of reporters and congressmen and senators flying through the doors at every opportunity." He smiled before returning his focus to the President and the well of the House.


	30. Bought a Ticket to the West Coast

Stacy stood up at the podium fielding questions from the press corps. The Midwest leg of the barnstorming tour for the State of the Union had been a raving success, the President played to sold out crowds in St. Louis, Omaha, Des Moines, Bismarck, Minneapolis and Kansas City. The Southern leg of the tour brought the same audiences to Memphis, Atlanta, Tampa Bay, Charleston, Raleigh and Norfolk. The Presidential caravan was going to be in town for a few days to regroup before they grabbed Gunny and Stacy and went on their Southwest kick.

"That's a full lid; I'll talk to all of you when we touch down in San Diego." Stacy got down from behind the podium and walked with Gunny out of the press briefing room. "I swear, those people can be like vultures some times."

"Two and a quarter years of dealing with them, you'd think you would be used to it by now." Gunny smirked. "Relax, it's the middle of February in DC and we're about to head to the only place on the mainland that currently has temperatures above seventy degrees."

"I know, San Diego, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Phoenix, Santa Fe, Albuquerque, El Paso, San Antonio, Dallas, Houston and Corpus Christi. It's going to be ten days of paradise in the middle of winter." She grinned. "Did your assistant book separate hotel rooms for us this time?"

"No, I thought it was your turn." The two of them stopped in the middle of the corridor. "You didn't book two rooms? The press is going to be all over this."

"Hey, it's happened before, it's not like it was a story then." She chuckled. "Besides, it's a ten day kick through the desert, where the President talks about immigration reform, law and order and national defence. He looks like the Cowboy Democrat and we get to have a little fun."

"You make it sound so appealing." Gunny chuckled as he headed off toward his office. "You packed for the heat?"

"Oh, I live for the heat." She grinned maniacally at him and winked at him before disappearing into her office.

"Hey, boss, can I talk to you for a moment?" Charlie tapped on the door to Gunny's office.

"My time is your time, how's the Hearn confirmation going?" Gunny was stuffing a few last minute items into his sea-bag including his laptop. He razed his eyes and waited for Charlie to finish his statement.

"That's a little bit of what I'm having trouble with." Charlie cracked his knuckles. "The Democrats are trying to push the nomination through but the Republicans are trying to hang this thing up in channels, I've even got a cranky Senator from Alabama who's threatening to filibuster."

"Hit him." Gunny muttered.

"Literally?" Charlie furrowed his brow.

"No, not literally, you have the spin machine of the entire Democratic National Committee at your disposal. Call in the Senator; tell him that if he filibusters we're going to rake him over the coals with a pitchfork." Gunny hung his sea-bag over his shoulder and walked toward his office door. "How far are we from a vote on the Judiciary committee?"

"One more hearing I think." Charlie answered as they moved through the bullpen. "Service on Air Force One has been better lately. President has suggested we do a lot of flying at night, that way you end up sleeping on Air Force One. But you guys will probably be overnight in hotels in Vegas, California and Texas."

"That's ninety-four electoral votes." The two of them stopped in front of Stacy's office. "The Republicans have any declared candidates for the 2012 race yet?"

"Got my eyes on it, boss, no one wants to be the first into the fray. The President's approval rating after the State of the Union was at sixty-six percent. If I were considering running against a very popular President, I would probably wait until his numbers came down too." Charlie knocked on Stacy's door. "Stacy! You gotta get out here; you're supposed to be wheels up in seventy-two minutes."

Stacy came out of her office door with a rolling suitcase and a San Diego Padres hat on her head. "Take that stupid thing off." Gunny gave her a straight look.

"Hey, don't knock the hat. I have one for every home team; the Dodgers, the Diamondbacks, the Astros and the Rangers." She laughed. "Come on, let's head for the Sun Belt!" She gave Gunny a pat on the shoulder and the two of them headed for the ellipse and the lawn and Marine One.

1614 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"Harm, you wild thing, we're going to San Diego!" Mac towel whipped her husband as she walked into the kitchen.

"Mac, what are you so excited about? I'm going to spend most of my days in meetings at North Island and you're going to be in conferences." Harm adjusted the buttons on the front of his blue jacket.

"Ah, yes, but while you're boring slow holes in the heads of a few Commanders and Captains, I'm going to be participating in a vibrant legal discussion that's going to conclude with a keynote address on the abolition of the death penalty." She smiled at her husband. "We also get to go out west on a private jet and bask in the warmth of the paradise that is San Diego and get away from winter in D.C!"

"You're really into this aren't you?" Harm chuckled while watching Mac dance around the kitchen to the rhythm of Billy Joel's _Uptown Girl_.

"Well, you never take me anywhere warm during the winter, so yeah, when we get to go to the same warm place for few days on vacation, I get a little excited, yeah." She deadpanned a look at her husband and tossed the dish towel at him. "Are you trying to be a horse's ass?"

"You've been pretty moody lately, you know that." Harm smirked as he pulled the towel off his face.

"Well, what do you expect? It's below freezing outside and I've had this damn flu for the last week. You've been no help with that by the way." She pointed out.

"No help?! Who brought you chicken soup and rubbed your feet for an hour Tuesday night?" Harm raised his eyebrows expecting her to answer.

"Listen, flyboy, I have to listen to you drone on and on about your planes. You rubbing my feet is due punishment for that kind of torture." Mac stormed out of the kitchen and up the stairs to pack for their trip.

"Morning, Harm." Frank came through the door into the kitchen from the attached guest house that they had built on. It was mere coincidence that the kitchen joined the two sectors of the house. "Hurricane Mac been through already?"

"You've noticed her moodiness, too?" Harm tossed a couple of bowls of multi-grain cereal down on the table.

"Do I look, deaf, boy?" Frank teased. His disease was progressing slower then was expected it was remitting more often then doctors had initially predicted, both of which were a Godsend. "I'd send her to a doctor, Harm. When was the last time you had a stomach flu that lasted eight days?"

"You want to tell Mac that she has to go to the doctor? You'd better tie her hands behind her back and throw her in the car or convince the doctor to make a house call because she doesn't voluntarily seek help." Harm chuckled.

"Your mother's a lot like that." Frank added.

"How do you convince Mom to seek help if she needs it?" Harm drew his elbows up on the edge of the table and leaned on them.

"Bribery." Frank sloshed out amidst a mouthful of cereal. "Jewellery is a particularly good motivator."

"I have much to learn in the ways of marriage, Master." Harm mimicked the Karate Kid. Frank got up from the table and tightened the knot on his bathrobe. He gave Harm a pat on the head before heading for the front door and the newspaper.

"All in good time, grasshopper." The elder man joked.

1902 ZULU

AIR FORCE ONE

SOMEWHERE OVER KANSAS

"I can't believe I forgot to pack pyjamas!" Stacy shout at the top of her lungs.

"You want to keep it down? I'm sure you don't want the entire White House press corps to know what you sleep in." Gunny leapt into the conference room where Stacy was sitting at her laptop

"You heard me all the way out there?" She questioned.

"Let's just say that the Governor of California, who is now talking to the President via video conference, now knows that you have nothing to sleep in when we touch down in San Diego." Gunny laughed. "You really are something you know that?"

"When you decide what, let me know." She smiled at him quickly. "You gonna let me borrow some t-shirts to sleep in when we land?"

"I don't know, borrowing my clothes, that's kind of a big step. People might talk." Gunny sunk down into a chair. "If you're a good girl then I might let you borrow one of my old Marine Corps t-shirts."

She bit her lip coyly before daring to venture further. "And what if I'm naughty?" She peaked her eyebrows quickly to lend to the clear double entendre.

"Well, then I might just have to give you the shirt off my back." Gunny sniped right back and the two of them stopped anything work related that they were doing when their eyes met. Stacy's hands just hovered over the keys on the laptop. The President entered the conference room in the middle of this little scene and cleared his throat to make his presence known.

"Am I interrupting something?" He questioned, looking from his Chief of Staff to his Press Secretary. Gunny gave his head a shake when he realized that the interrupting voice in fact belonged to the boss.

"No, sir, just lack of sleep last night catching up with me I guess." Gunny laughed nervously. The President sank down into a chair. "Sir, when we get to California, you're going to be addressing the crew of the _Abraham Lincoln_ and the 26th Marine Expeditionary Unit, they're shipping out tomorrow. Then the next day when we're in LA, we've got a Town Hall at a Tower Records that was organized by MAPA."

"Yes, Gunny, I know. You're going to be with me at the MAPA town hall, being as it is the Mexican American Political Association and they just named you as their outstanding Mexican American role model for this year." The President gave Gunny a pat on the shoulder. "I bet your mom's proud."

"Yes, sir, she had the newspaper article framed." Gunny rolled his eyes.

"Mama's boy." Stacy taunted over the top of her computer screen.

"Don't make me get the hose." The President reached for the latest copy of the congressional legislative schedule that had been faxed over from the OEOB. "Charlie got university subsidies on the agenda."

"The Republicans will hate it." Gunny commented.

"Of course they will; it's another expansion of the federal government to help people who aren't benefiting from free market Friedman economics." Stacy remarked sarcastically.

"Which is a perfectly legitimate philosophical concern that their constituents want them to raise on the floor of the House when the appropriations bill comes up for debate." The President reminded his staffers. "Republicans aren't evil."

"Just the ones who run against you for President, right sir?" Gunny ventured with a smile.

"Damn right." Nate deadpanned.

SAME TIME

NAVY GULFSTREAM

SOMEWHERE OVER TENNESSEE

Mac was in the bathroom again. Damn flu bug. She must have caught it from one of the kids; the public schools in Virginia weren't exactly as sterile as an operating room at Mercy. Harm stood outside the bathroom with his arms crossed in front of his chest. "You finally ready to tell me what's going on, Mac or is it still a flu bug?" He tried to keep a straight face.

"Since I obviously forgot that you have a degree in medicine, Dr. Rabb, why don't you tell me what's going on?" Mac shot sarcastically as she washed her hands in the sink.

"Well, let's see you've been tired a lot, you've been getting sick a lot recently and you were dunking Dill Pickle flavoured chips in vanilla ice cream a couple of days ago, which is kind of why I thought you were sick." Harm chuckled nervously. "There are a few more things that can't just be coincidence."

"Like what?" She looked slightly annoyed now; she knew what he was driving at.

"Well, several people have pointed out that you haven't been in the most stable of moods lately." Harm immediately flinched; he knew that would draw fire.

"Just what the hell does that mean?" Mac demanded.

"You've just been known to go from happy to angry pretty quickly recently is all." Harm shrugged. "Then there's the girls." Harm indicated to her breasts and Mac rolled her eyes. "Come on, Mac, I'm your husband, I can pick up on swelling and sensitivity in that area pretty quickly. I guess this all comes down to whether or not you've had your period recently. Though I guess if you have and you have these symptoms, we should probably go to a hospital anyway."

The two of them had a slight chuckle over that. "I haven't." She said softly. "Oh God, Harm, do you think we could be? I mean, I'm forty-two, that's kind of late?"

"Have we ever done anything ordinary in the past?" He gave her a flyboy grin. "I'm no spring chicken either."

"Oh, but you look more distinguished the older you get. Every time I see a grey hair in my brush, I'm tempted to run screaming into the night." She smiled at her husband and gave him a big hug. "Always worried that the next time I turn around Sasha will be all grown up and there will be someone who knows me as 'grandma'." She laughed and sniffled.

"Honey, don't worry about that. Between boyfriends, proms and wearing inappropriate clothes, Sasha will give me a lot more grey hairs then she'll give you." Harm soothingly rubbed his wife's back and kissed the top of her head.

"That's true isn't it?" Mac laughed into the middle of his chest. "You're buying the pregnancy test when we touched down in San Diego." Mac told him.

"Maaaaaaaac." Harm whined as the two of them went to return to their seats.

0728 ZULU

CROWNE PLAZA BEVERLY HILLS

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

Gunny stared at the big red numbers on the clock: 1:28 AM. He needed sleep. Today was a rush; the President always played well to military audiences and today was no exception. After sticking around to sign a few autographs, shake a few hands and talk with some of the Marines, they were back on Air Force One and on their way to LA. He hated the little red numbers on that damn clock right now. Anything had to be better then just tossing and turning on a bed waiting to fall asleep. He sat up with his back against the headboard and reached for the remote on the end-table.

They were showing a few late night John Wayne movies and he decided that would have to do for this hour of night. He needed sleep, damn it. He couldn't function like the President needed him to on three hours sleep. He looked over at Stacy who was asleep in the other bed. Okay, bad idea. When you're already not sleeping, you don't want to focus on the sexiest woman in your life whose mere presence causes all sorts of X-rated thoughts to go through your head. She was wearing a pair of his boxers and one of his USMC t-shirts as pyjamas and even then she found a way to make those two articles so sexy that he'd never be able to wear them again.

The movie was _In Harm's Way_, damn Squids. _Flying Leathernecks_ was a better movie. The movie dragged on and finally it got to the big surface battle near the end when all the guns started going off. The TV was a little louder then he'd planned for and Stacy woke up. She rubbed her eyes before fixing an annoyed gaze on him. "It's three in the morning and we both need our sleep. Please don't make me beat you over the head with that remote in order to get you to sleep."

"Empty threat." Gunny challenged. Stacy kicked the sheets off her bed and got to her feet. Challenge accepted. He laughed and scrambled out of the bed himself. Stacy took a few strides with her long legs and lunged for the remote. Gunny dodged her but tripped over the phone chord and fell on to his back on the carpet. Stacy put her foot right in the middle of his chest.

"Hand of the remote, Gunny." She gave him her best no-nonsense look. Gunny reached up and tickled the bottom of her foot and she was overcome by a laughing fit, Gunny sprang to his feet accidentally knocking her on to her butt. _At least she had a sweet little cushion to land on_, Gunny thought before silently scolding himself. He walked back over to the bed and Stacy got to her feet. She took a few quick paces toward him and he turned to face her just as she was in mid-air lunging at him again. She knocked him backward on to the bed and landed on top of him. "Gotcha." She whispered.

"It appears so." His breathing was getting slightly heavier. Goddamn this woman felt good. "You gonna get off of me sometime soon?" He questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"No, I'm quite comfortable, thanks." She folded her arms over his chest and rested her chin on them. Her eyelids hung almost seductively low. She was soft; the smooth texture of her legs as they slowly rubbed against his was strong enough to force him to swallow a groan of pleasure. Those sparkling blue eyes of hers were a quiet hush in the darkness of the room. The tension was rising in the room; their breathing patterns were getting heavier.

There was loud scream from another room nearby and the two of them sprang to their feet and ran out into the hallway. When they got there they were joined by the President who was wearing the hotel bathrobe. "What the hell was that?" The President asked as played with the lapels of the robe. "Gunny, why is she wearing your boxers?"

"Long story, sir." Gunny nodded as they continued to look around.

"One I am sure you will entertain the class with at a later date, Gunny." Nate rubbed his eyes. The scream echoed through the halls again. Gunny, Stacy and the President launched down the hallway toward the scream with the Secret Service agents trying desperately to keep up. They burst through the door into the stairwell and practically jumped down the stairs to the next floor down with Secret Service shouting at the President to slow down and consider what he was doing.

When they arrived on the floor below, they encountered a woman in the hallway who was obviously pregnant. "Nancy?" Stacy questioned suddenly taken aback.

"You know her?" Gunny turned toward the Press Secretary.

"She's a reporter for Newsweek. She normally covers the White House but she's been on vacation here the last couple of weeks. I guess she was covering our visit for the magazine." Stacy answered looking at the man who suddenly reverted into 'Chief of Staff Mode'.

"Would one of you please help me?" Nancy shouted and Gunny and the President sprung into action.

"Pete," Nate motioned to the head of his Secret Service detail, "get an ambulance here, now!"

"On it, boss." The agent pulled his cell out of his pocket.

"Let's get you back into the room." Gunny motioned. "Is it the baby?"

"No, I stubbed my toe." The reporter shot sarcastically. "Of course it's the baby! Do either of you know what you're doing?!" The reporter stopped for a second. "Sorry, Mr. President."

"Not a problem, Mrs. Ross said much worse things when she was in labour." Nate chuckled. "I've got four kids, only two deliveries, but four kids so I know kind of how this works."

"And what about you?" She turned to face Gunny.

"I worked at JAG." Gunny answered.

"What does that mean?!" She demanded.

"Quite a lot if you worked there during the Chegwidden era." Nate joked. "I'm going to need a stopwatch, a lot of pillows, a bucket of warm water and something to tie off the umbilical chord." Stacy went at gathered the pillows to set them up to support.

"Why do we need at stopwatch?" She asked.

"We need to time the contractions." Gunny answered for the President.

"Pete, what the hell is going on with the ambulance?" Nate turned toward the Secret Service Agent.

"Big pile up on the interstate and a few gang shootings tonight, boss; a lot of the ambulances are being used. The ones from Beverly Hills volunteered at the interstate crash site." The Secret Service Agent answered. Gunny and the President assumed the positions, Gunny was ready to deliver the baby and Nate was ready to get several of his knuckles broken while the reporter squeezed her way through the pain.

"Alright, Gunny, you need to find out how far she's dilated." The President looked at his Chief of Staff.

"Is that something you can order me to do, sir?" Gunny asked wearily.

"If the Constitution permits me, Gunny." Nate was straight-faced about the whole thing.

"Are you sure what you know what you're doing, sir?" The reporter asked.

"Mrs. Ross has gone through two of these and she'll be going through another one later this year." Nate assured the reporter as she squeezed her way through another contraction.

"The First Lady is pregnant, sir?" Gunny questioned as he checked the dilation.

"A few months if I'm any judge, she's got the same symptoms that she had with the triplets and then with Harry. She's even trying to hide it like she used to." Nate grimaced as he felt his knuckles compact.

"Congratulations, sir. This certainly seems to be the year for it. What with Senator Latham and all." Gunny ducked back down to double-check the dilation. "Looks like eight or nine centimetres, sir."

"Well, we're not all the way there yet." Nate stated aloud.

"The First Lady hoping for a girl this time around, sir?" Gunny questioned as a way of distracting both the President and the reporter.

"She is, she won't tell me that because she thinks I'm hoping for another boy but I know she is." The President chuckled. "Tell me when we're at ten centimetres, would you, Gunny?"

"Trust me, sir, that was the last thing you needed to say." Gunny assured his boss as he crouched on the receiving end.

0253 ZULU

McCAULEY'S PUB

FOGGY BOTTOM, WASHINGTON DC

Anna Ross sat at the bar. Her curled golden locks sitting calmly against the black of her jacket. She knew Sergei would talk to her. She didn't know why or particularly care, the point was getting him to talk. At this point that was all that was important. Her fingernail tapped the lip of the martini glass as she impatiently waited for the form of the Russian Marine to drape his shadow over her. There was something about Sergei that would always entice her, always excite her. She loved him, she had for years, and it was something about the uniform, the innocence of his love for his adopted country. An odd combination of sex and patriotism that made for a volatile cocktail.

She ran her fingers through her hair and cast her hundredth glance at the door. Maybe it was nervousness, maybe it was self-preservation of her own hope that made her schedule this. In her heart, she knew what it was. It was his touch; that firework of electric candlelight that shot through her even when he so much as put his hand at the small of her back.

She never needed to see him to know when he was near. She could feel him like a damp presence of erotic humility; a living reminder of that night on the tarmac when she bared her soul to him and he rejected her. It was him, she turned on the stool and faced those firm, foreboding eyes. "Hey." She whispered, looking at the floor, at his shoes and slowly tracing her way up the lines of his body. "You don't talk to any of us anymore."

"You all stopped caring." Sergei took a seat at the bar. "At different times, sure, but you all stopped eventually. Tamila was the only thing I had left in the world. I should have had Mikey and Johnny and I should have had you, but you all stopped."

"We didn't mean to, Sergei. That wasn't what it was about but the last two years have been something big and inexplicable." She downed the last few drops of her vodka martini. "It's just one of those foreboding things that comes along a few times in your life and you either deal with it or you don't." There was that word again. Foreboding. That was the future, wasn't it? Something big and scary that you couldn't quite control and that you feared like it was threatening to strip you of all that you knew and all that you loved. But still, she had him.

"Then why?" He raised the stout to his lips.

"Because time marches on, because eventually the inevitable has to become reality and maybe, just maybe, because some tribulations are required to make us better people." She motioned for a soda. "Something so undefined that it can only be seen by the eyes of the blind."

"Are you Shakespeare now?" Sergei questioned with a chuckle.

"It's the River of Dreams." Anna chuckled. "It's about going to all lengths to find something that you feel you've lost. But you don't even know what it is."

"You get heavy into poetry or something since your failed engagement." Sergei slid that into the conversation as a metaphorical yet inferred retribution.

"Soft rock, actually." She smiled at him, all her pearl white teeth showing.

"Did you ever get that promotion to Major that you were looking for?" Sergei asked, looking to changed topics.

"Nah, I wasn't on the last promotions list. I did get assigned to Andrews for Missing Man fly-bys at Arlington. Johnny got promoted and reassigned, he's my brother's ball carrier now." She smiled.

"Whoever would have thought they would entrust Johnny-Reb with the nuclear launch codes." Sergei took another drink of his beer. "What did you come here to talk about?"

"I got tired of not caring." She admitted, her eyes immediately magnetizing the floor again. "I needed you back. I needed my friend. Life with you is better then life without you."

"That's very deep." His smile was small.

"It's also very true." She shook her head. "Sergei, we never meant," she paused," I never meant for things to get this far, I never meant for any of this. I don't know what I ever meant, I never had to know before, everything was just so easy. It was my dad or my brothers or the Corps, I always had something to take my edge off, something to take my responsibility off. It was easy, you know? Everyone knew Dad and Dad was a micromanager and he gave orders, he never stopped being General Jack. When Dad died, I didn't have that gravity any more." She huffed. "But there was Nate and Nate was just like Dad, but he had a young family and he was running for President, so I didn't have him to ground me. The Corps was the only thing left but after that night with the North Korean ships, even that wasn't enough." The two of them shared a look.

"But there was you. And I figured, of anyone I knew, I could trust you to be that rock." She groaned. "Ah, but what the hell am I talking about, I'm just putting it off on you. We missed you, Sergei. More then I think I could ever put into words." She reached over and gave him a hug.

"I missed you, too." He answered, blinking away a few tears. He rubbed her back slightly. Healing was never easy, especially if the scars were deep enough, but maybe if it was the right person and maybe if it was the right time and maybe with the right effort, things would get better.

0944 ZULU

CROWNE PLAZA BEVERLY HILLS

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

"You guys sure you never put in some time at a maternity ward?" The reporter asked as she held her newborn that was swaddled in the hotel bathrobe that the President had been wearing. He and Gunny gave each other a pat on the back.

"Did you and your husband have a name picked out for a boy?" Stacy asked, she like Gunny and Nate, were crouched around the new mother.

"No, we could never agree on anything. We had a bit of a tiff about it when he went to Seattle on business yesterday." She smiled at the three White House personnel in front of her. "Does delivering babies fall under the usual purview of the President and the White House Chief of Staff?"

"You gotta have _some_ personal hobbies when you work as hard as we do." Gunny answered with a smile. "Have you thought up a name for the little tyke yet?"

"One, I think. Let me try it on you guys for size." She chuckled. "Victor Nathan Brennan."

"It's a good name." Gunny chuckled and gave a smile. The elevator dinged behind them and the paramedics got off with their gurney. Everyone got up and gave a nod to the reporter, Nate and the agents went for the stairs whereas Gunny and Stacy stood in front of the elevator. "You feel the need to exercise this late at night, sir?" Gunny asked as the President headed through the door into the stairwell.

"Able body, able mind, Gunny." Nate chimed as he began to hit the stairs. The door closed behind Nate and the Secret Service team as Gunny and Stacy still stood waiting for the elevator.

"Exciting night." Stacy mused as she waited for the lights to come back to their floor.

"Yeah." Gunny nodded quickly, barely moving his eyes from the lights to catch a quick glimpse of her.

"You ever think you're going to miss out on it?" She chanced, turning to face him slightly.

"You mean being a father?" He shifted himself to look at her. "Yeah, once in a while that worry crosses my mind." He glanced down at his bare feet as they traced over the red carpet. "We work pretty hard, I don't get the social life I should and I'm getting older. At forty-five, I've got that whole middle-aged thing too, that certainly doesn't help. How about you?"

"Well, I'm thirty-six, so I don't have to worry about the middle age thing but I probably don't have too many child-bearing years left. I don't know, I never thought it was in my genetic makeup to be a mom. My own mom was one of those society types; a mother but not a mom. The more I think about it, the more time we spend with the boss and his family, the more I think it's something worth considering." She giggled a little to herself. "Guess that sounds kind of spinster-like, huh?"

"Nah, you'll figure it all out." Gunny let out a hard breath. There was a heavy open-ended silence between the two of them. Their talks were rarely if ever this personal. What little he knew about her personal life, he'd learned in gradual doses over the last two years.

"I've got a crazy idea." She bit her lip.

"Crazy as in 'I need medication' or crazy as in 'I've seen it in a movie'?" Gunny eyed her suspiciously.

"I think the latter." She smiled. "Next term, after the campaign and the madness and the smear machines, when we both think we're ready, we'll go in on a kid together." It was a venture and a long one but one worth taking she thought.

"You and me? You sure about that?" He grinned fondly awaiting confirmation.

"Yeah, with you and me as parents she'll have street smarts and book smarts." Stacy added as the doors to the elevator opened. The two of them stepped into the elevator.

"What if it's a 'he'?" Gunny asked.

"I guess the same would be true wouldn't it?" She questioned slyly as the two of them shared one last knowing look as the elevator doors closed.


	31. We Didn't Start the Fire

_We really don't own President Clinton, we're just borrowing him for the purposes of this chapter. But Bill's cool, I'm sure he'd do the show if we asked him._

_Guest Starring:_

_Alan Alda as President Andrew Russell_

_Bill Clinton as Himself _

It was the night of the reception at the British Embassy for the annual V-E Day celebrations. It was always one of the swankiest parties in town in May. The big brass always came out for it. The Secretary of Defence, the President, the entire Joint Chiefs of Staff and most of their deputies along with most of White House senior staff. Tuxedos and ball gowns and dress uniforms decorated the room as far as the eye could see. The British Ambassador was a jovial fellow and a wonderful host. The First Lady was now five months pregnant, a state that all of official Washington and most of unofficial Washington believed agreed with her. In three years she had gone from young First Lady to the nation's mommy.

The entire group from Chegwidden's era at JAG was there. Sturgis was on the arm of an eight months pregnant Senator Latham, Harm and Mac were together as always and Mac's own baby belly was showing rather prominently, Bud and Harriet were enjoying one of their few nights out of the house. Bud Roberts was soon going to be up for his O-6 promotion and with all the letters coming from the higher ups, he was sure to get it. Gunny and the Admiral stood out in their tuxedos, they hated the penguin suit but it was a formal reception and they were there representing the Pentagon and the White House respectively. They mixed and mingled with the Brits and the Canadians and the French embassy officials.

Around 2200 that night Gunny felt a vibration in his jacket pocket. "Galindez." He answered and nodded a couple of times. He hung his head for a quick second and closed the phone.

"What was it?" Stacy straightened the straps on her pink ball gown.

"The President's dead." Gunny whispered in her ear.

"What are you talking about, he right over there?" Stacy pointed over the crowd to where the President and Admiral Rabb were talking.

"No, the former President." Gunny clarified and Stacy nodded. Gunny and Stacy pushed their way through the crowd to get to the President. This story was going to dominate the news cycle and probably their planning for the next few days. Two staffers would be sent with the President to the funeral and the rest would have to staff the White House with the Vice President. "Sir!" Gunny shouted over the music as he tapped the President on the shoulder. "The Former President is dead."

The President nodded and the White House group headed for the door. "Harm, give my regards to the British Ambassador, would you?" Nate shook his old friend's hand. "And I want to hear about that first ultrasound." Nate chuckled.

"Only if I get to hear about yours." Harm answered with a smile. They shook hands and tapped fists before the President and his posse left the party.

"When did you two become buddies?" Mac looked at her husband with evident surprise. Nate and Harm had always had some degree of competition between them, in a lot of ways it was their similarities that made them that way but what divided them was luck. It was luck that sent Jack Ross into the jungles of Vietnam four times and brought him back each time and that same mistress of luck that sent Harmon Rabb Sr. over Vietnam twice and eventually took him from the son that would carry his name and his legacy with him his entire life. Sometimes, in the dead of night, when the rain hit the windowpane of their bedroom just right, she could swear that she still saw that little boy in his eyes. Harm was a different man now that he was a father; he was calmer, more cerebral but still Harm. At last, that serenity seemed to have overcome his own friendly macho competition with his friends.

"Yeah, well, you can only face down so many international crises with someone before you become friends." Harm answered with a smile. "Besides, he's my boss; you don't piss off the boss."

"Since when?" Secretary AJ Chegwidden popped up behind Harm. "I seem to remember you ruffling my feathers when I was the JAG."

"Well, I was younger then, sir." Harm answered. "And if I remembered proper chain of command, you still are my boss."

"Indeed I am." AJ looked pensive for a second. "And as your boss, Mr. Rabb, I order you to dance with your wife."

"Aye, aye, sir." Harm snapped off a quick salute before leading Mac back out on to the dance floor.

1439 ZULU, 2 DAYS LATER

ANDREWS AIR FORCE BASE

MORNINGSIDE, MARYLAND

"I'm telling you, Gunny, this place is a zoo. All his former policy wonks are here. I haven't seen this kind of foreign policy talent in a room since Istanbul." Stacy looked around the cabin at all the former cabinet members and White House staffers of the now deceased President. "Former President Russell is going to be here in a few minutes, I expect another massive entourage clamouring on this plane and a bipartisan love-fest between him and the boss, and you know how they get along."

"Yeah, it's going to be a bipartisan love-fest, you said." Gunny rolled his eyes as he walked through the West Wing toward the Vice President's office in the OEOB. "Not that bad actually, get a few shots of the two party's current icons shaking hands and acting friendly on the day when the Supreme Court is about to rule on creationism and intelligent design. You guys are flying up to New York to pick up President Clinton, right?"

"Indeed we are, that's our next and last stop before the funeral. I predict seeing the Presidents on the plane warring over some damn policy of the day. I may not be able to get to the martini shaker thing fast enough." She slid into a chair in the conference room. "How are the Speaker and the Vice President getting along?"

"The Texas Democrats have taken over the building." Gunny chuckled. "They're talking about God and Guns."

"Are they talking about Gays?" Stacy cracked open the top of the gin bottle and poured it into the shaker.

"It's a little early to be drinking, isn't it?" Gunny questioned. "And no they're not talking about gays yet."

"Well, I don't care what time it is at the moment. I'm on a plane that's going to have boatloads of Democrats and Republicans on it, I'm basically on a flying bottle of Tequila." She mixed in the Vermouth.

"That sounds entertaining." Gunny answered. There was some loud shouting in the background. "Is President Russell there?"

"Just pulled up." She looked out the window to see the limo on the tarmac.

"He's written a few books since he left office, he and the President are probably going to want to talk about that." Gunny cleared his throat.

"Aren't they both big Hemingway fans?" Stacy queried

"Huge Hemingway fans. The two of them could debate on metaphors and similes in _The Sun Also Rises_ for hours." Gunny chuckled. "Don't let them get on to Hemingway."

"I won't." She chuckled and poured the drink out into the martini glass. "Kat's struggling with the eulogy."

"Why did the former President want our President delivering the eulogy anyway?" Gunny asked as he scratched a few notes into a pad of paper and handed the paper to a staffer.

"It's tradition for the sitting President to deliver the eulogy when a former President dies." Stacy answered. "Gonna be a long flight."

Outside the conference room, Presidents Ross and Russell were walking and talking their way through the last seven months since they had last spoke. "I read your memoirs, I was pleased that I wasn't the demonized Democrat." Nate chuckled. "You did depict me and Vice President Hunt locking horns a lot more then I remember though."

"Really? I can vividly remember several Situation Room sessions where the two of you almost came to blows." President Russell chuckled.

"You didn't tell me that you were doing that biography on my family though." The two men took seats in the conference room.

"Yeah, well, I've been in the rare position to know three generations of Ross men. All of whom seem to have popped out of that small little house in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania and all of whom exhibit some leadership skills. There's something very Kennedy-esque about it." Andrew Russell raised his one foot on to his knee. "Anyone you're afraid of taking on in the general election next year?"

"Nah, I've got a top flight staff, they'll help me take on whoever you guys nominate." Nate chuckled. "To be quite honest, I like being out on the campaign trail, there's an energy to it that's missing from actually running the country."

"You found that too, huh?" President Russell laughed. "Campaigning is a different kind of fun. It's the thrill of competing and beating the other guy. You ran all stars last time and you ran against a good Republican and you cleaned his clock. Brent Wayne was a good moderate Republican, a good fiscal conservative and you took the boots to him. I think the party's going to nominate a Bible thumper this time that's going to come in hard on your right."

"Andrew, I go to church every week, I've talked to the press from the steps of the Church and I have most of the New Testament committed to memory, but Paul's letter to Jude trips me up a bit." Nate chuckled. "Bible thumpers don't worry me."

1607 ZULU

OPNAVS OFFICE – PENTAGON

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm was sitting behind his desk going over the latest force depletion estimates for Afghanistan as per standard DoD protocol. God, this job could be downright tedious some times. He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on the numbers. This was tough. Well, pretty much everything they did hear was tough. Some of it was tough because it meant amounting human cost. The rest of it was tough because it was so boring that getting through it required more coffee then the human body should be forced to ingest.

A tap came at the doorframe to his office. He looked up to find his boss and former two star Admiral AJ Chegwidden standing there with a piece of paper in his hands. "Hey, AJ, come on in." Harm motioned toward the brown leather chair on the other side of his desk. "You want coffee? My yeoman makes a mean brew."

"Anything like Gunny's?" AJ asked.

"Nah, you'd have to go to 1600 to get that kind of crank case oil." Harm chuckled and paged for his yeoman to get them some coffee. "What's up? You don't normally come here to talk unless it's something important."

"In my hand, I have the letter of resignation of Admiral Paul Barris, Chief of Naval Operations. Delivered promptly one full day before his sixty-second birthday and…" AJ alluded and Harm finished the sentence.

"And forced retirement. Very nice, what does it have to do with me?" Harm leaned back in the chair.

"As per standard appointment protocol to fill a seat on the JCS; I, as Secretary of Defence, have to compile a shortlist of names to fill the position and send the White House the personal records of those officers whom I have recommended for higher office." Secretary Chegwidden gave a gracious nod to the yeoman who handed him the coffee mug.

"The President will pick Bax. Bax is a good administrator, he's handled a theatre command for two and a half years and he's got seniority. Besides, he's got name recognition since Istanbul." Harm swivelled his chair to the right slightly.

"So do you." AJ pointed out.

"Yeah, but Bax is basically our generation's Bull Halsey." Harm laughed. "He knows it all, he can do it all."

"He's not a JAG lawyer, he's not a submariner and despite having flight training, he's never actually taken a plane off of a carrier deck." AJ hunched over in his chair.

"He's a SEAL and the War on Terror is a Special Ops war. SEAL teams, Ranger teams, Force Recon squads; they're the fastest and easiest to deploy and they're intensely trained in intelligence. The President comes to me for international law opinions if he needs them, which must piss off the Attorney General, but I'm already invaluable to this administration in a legal capacity. Anything more on my plate then that and I won't be able to go home and see my kids at night." Harm rolled his pen around his fingers.

"At least you get to go home." AJ laughed. "I've got a cot and a sleeping bag in my office for forty-five minute naps at two in the morning."

"No, you don't." Harm chuckled and AJ shot him a dead serious look. "Okay, maybe you do. Why the hell don't you just pawn a few things off on Tom? He always seems to make it out of here by 1900."

"Yeah, I don't know how he does it." AJ laughed. "So, I'm going to put your name, Baxter's name, Keeter's name and Turner's name on the list and send it over to the White House later."

"Keeter?" Harm raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, he's been stagnating out in Pearl Harbour for five years, it's about time we shuffled the deck." AJ gave the arms of his chair a pat.

"Never thought it would be the four of us clamouring for the top job." Harm looked somewhat amused.

"Why's that?" AJ wondered.

"Because we were idiots at the Academy. Keeter and Bax especially. I remember one time. Bax glued Sturgis to his sheets while he was sleeping. You should have heard Sturgis howl when we pulled those sheets off of him, you'd swear he was getting a wax." Harm laughed and AJ howled at the story.

"Don't forget to tell him the Rack of the Mummy, Harm." Sturgis appeared in the doorway.

"Rack of the Mummy?" AJ looked confused.

"Keeter got Harm really drunk and we all stripped him and stuck him in bed. Then we stapled the covers to the mattress and lifted the mattress out of our dorm room and snuck it into Diane's dorm room. Well, when Harm woke up sober the next morning, he was of course terrified to find that he was naked and not in his room. With Diane and her roommates around him in nightgowns, Harm was really sure he was in trouble. I think he was counting how many regulations he'd probably broken. So, he takes the pillow from behind his head and covers his crotch and tries to climb out of the bed." By this point both Sturgis and AJ were howling with laughter and Harm was looking very annoyed. "He scrambles out into the hallway to find that we've got the entire plebe class of '81 waiting for him. So there he stands, bare assed with entire class laughing themselves stupid."

"I'm going to kill you, Turner." Harm threatened.

"You've been saying that for thirty years, Harm." Sturgis chuckled and headed back to his office.

1711 ZULU

JFK AIRPORT

NEW YORK, NEW YORK

The plane landed safely on the tarmac to pick up President Clinton who boarded without incident. "Bill." Nate shook his hand. "How's the Senator?"

"Working hard with you and Ed McLaren to make this a better country." Bill answered with his typical charisma. "How's your wife?"

"Very pregnant." Nate answered. "She'll be as big as a house soon and I'll have to be extra careful about not saying anything stupid while she's around."

"The burdens of the Y chromosome, my friend." President Clinton headed into the conference room. "Andy." President Clinton shook President Russell's hand.

"Bill, nice to see you again." Russell sank back down into his chair.

"So, what were the two of you talking about before you landed?" Bill adjusted his jacket.

"Andy was just about to lecture me on expanding education, reforming the curriculum, expanding the school year and considering some post-secondary education subsidies for lower income families." Nate poured a glass of Orange Juice.

"I just think that you should have more pressing matters like the deficit." Andrew Russell poured himself a glass of water.

"You created that deficit, Andy. That's what happens when entitlements are costing more money and you decide to cut taxes." President Clinton intervened. "More people need to be educated if we're going to narrow that gap between rich and poor. We need better schools, we need more affordable college."

"Not everybody's cut out to go to Princeton," President Russell looked at Nate, "or win a Rhodes scholarship." He looked at President Clinton. "What about our trades?"

"That's why we rearranged the curriculum to create separate streams of high school education in our Education Reform Bill." Stacy interrupted as she pulled up a chair. "We wanted to get kids thinking about their future. We're going to need both Doctors and Millwrights, Lawyers and Cosmetologists, but they don't need the same education."

"Getting them to think about it is one thing, but it means nothing if they can't afford their goal." Nate added.

"Hey, give me a break, I'm a little outnumbered here, you guys are ganging up on me." President Russell laughed. "Why not approve a voucher program for the kids who want to go to university then? You know as well as I do that good grades at an infamously tough school are viewed better by universities then good grades in public schools."

"I don't know that for sure, Andrew." Nate interjected. "I went to public school, my dad was a Marine officer my whole life and by the time I graduate from high school he was only a Colonel, which hardly puts him in the top tax bracket. He put my mom through school at night to get her psychology degree and I only got into Penn State because I had really good grades from a public school. I think I did pretty well."

"Andy, tell me, how are vouchers anything but government subsidies to private schools? Shouldn't government help the most amount of people that it can?" President Clinton jumped in.

"Shouldn't this be left up to the States? Arguably the Governor of Virginia knows what Virginia needs more then the Federal government does." Andrew Russell was hesitant to bring this up.

"Andy, you're talking with two former Governors here are you sure you want to bring the states into this one." President Clinton grinned. "There's a real revenue-spending gap between what monetary resources the states have and what level of burden you want them to take on. What Nate could do in four years in Pennsylvania would have taken me a lot longer in Arkansas."

"The purpose of government is to provide roughly equal levels of service at proportional level of taxation. I want kids in Grand Forks, North Dakota getting the same quality of education as kids in New Haven, Connecticut." Nate leaned forward.

"Hell, at least we're talking about it." Stacy cut the tension in the room. "So, about the funeral." She looked around at the three Presidents.

"He was a good man." President Clinton nodded.

"That he was." President Russell bowed his head. "I was in the Gang of Eight when he told us about that little venture in the Middle East. He wanted to work so hard to be a good guy and live up to the effort of his partisan predecessor."

"You think there was ever any real animus between him and Reagan?" Nate asked.

"You think that matters now?" President Clinton questioned.

"No, no, you're probably right." Nate nodded. "He gave the commencement speech at Princeton for my year. I may not have always agreed with him but the ability he had to speak the truth, that was something to be admired."

"Yeah, it was." President Russell nodded as he felt the plane descend.

1940 ZULU

THE WEST WING

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

Gunny stood in the middle of the bullpen looking around. Without the President around, he was collecting information with no one to run it through. He was trying to keep the petty stuff out of the President's mind today and let the Speaker and the Vice President run the Capitol for the day, but that wasn't working. "I never appreciated how much Stacy actually did for this White House until I had to brief the White House backup pool of reporters." Morley came storming into the bullpen.

"Hostile group?" Gunny asked.

"Cynical bunch of screw jobs." Morley huffed. "You and Stacy have to be like the only two people who can never leave this building under any circumstances."

"I'll write that down." Gunny chuckled. "The campaign's going to be a rat race when it starts up."

"Larry Burke is running." Morley informed his boss.

"As in Christian Conservative, bible-thumping, abortion banning, creationist, Governor of Kansas, Larry Burke?" Charlie joined in the conversation.

"Threw his hat in the ring thirty-two minutes ago." Morley nodded.

"No way we get lucky enough to have him as the Republican nominee." Gunny laughed. "The President would run circles around him in a debate and when it comes to charisma, it's not a contest."

"The Republicans don't like that they ran a moderate and a fiscal conservative against the President last time and lost so badly. They're going to try and see if a different breed of Republican cracks the armour this time around. They don't want to lionize Nate Ross as another JFK or FDR." Charlie added. "Kansas is Middle America; he's got a chance if he can win Iowa. He locks up a few southern states and the west is basically his."

"Well, yeah, but he has to win Iowa." Gunny reminded his cohorts. "What about Chet Adams, the VP candidate from last time? He was conservative; he's a Northeast Republican, that's got to have some appeal."

"In New Hampshire, yes. In Iowa, who knows? If they tag him with Wayne fatigue from the last campaign he might not pick up steam." Morley cracked his knuckles. "For the Republicans, it's all about Iowa and South Carolina. If you can win those two then your shot at the nomination goes up thirty percent."

"Think anyone can beat the boss?" Gunny turned to Charlie.

"Hard to say. Latest approval ratings are 62 percent. Those are good numbers but if he really makes some controversial legislative pushes in the next few months that could fluxuate wildly." Charlie answered, pursing his lips. "It's too soon to tell. If the election were held today, we could wipe out the Republicans but a lot can happen in a year."

"A year is an eternity, a lifetime in politics." Morley answered.

"Let's just get through today, guys." Gunny chuckled and sent them off to their offices.

2456 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm took his cover off and tossed it on the hat rack. Finally, he was getting home at a decent hour. "Harm!" Mac called from the living room. Now his second job began. One thing about Mac when she was pregnant, she was one demanding pregnant woman. She was a beautiful pregnant woman; her skin radiated a magnificent maternal glow. "Harm, come rub my feet and tell me about your day." Mac gave a pat to the couch cushion next to her.

"You can be really demanding when you're pregnant you know that?" Harm questioned as he lumbered into the room.

"Yeah, I know, but you love me anyway." Mac had a spoon dug into a carton of Ben & Jerry's Mint Chocolate Chip.  
"God, help me I do." Harm plopped down on the couch next to her and Mac kicked up one leg into his lap. Sasha and Tommy came barrelling down the stairs and into the living room. "Slow down you two." Harm called after his kids. The two children stopped at the feet of the couch with Sasha pointing to her mom's belly.

"See, I told you mom was fat, weasel grease!" Sasha taunted her brother.

"Sasha, your mom is pregnant, not fat." Harm interrupted. Mac tossed him a suspicious glare. "I mean your experiencing a beautiful maternal glow."

"Damn right I am." Mac answered. "Sasha, where did you learn that name you just called your brother."

"Uncle Tom taught me." Sasha grinned at her mom. "Did say you were pregnant, like with Tommy?"

"That's right." Mac nodded.

"You mean I was in there?" The mischievous five year-old pointed to his mom's protruding middle "Yuck."

"Tell me about it, sport." Harm added with a chuckle and Mac smacked him in the middle of the chest. The kids ran off into the next room and Harm continued rubbing his wife's feet. "Barris is retiring."

"Who's AJ recommending?" Mac asked, practically melting into the couch because of Harm's touch.

"Bax, Keeter, Sturgis and me. I think Bax will get it. He's got the resume." Harm moved his attention up her leg to her calf muscles.

"You always sell yourself short. You've got just as impressive a resume as Bax does. What makes you think the President wouldn't pick you?" She sat up behind him and roped her arms around his neck before perching her head on his shoulder. Harm put three fingers on his shoulder.

"Bax is the senior officer." Harm hung his head. "Ah well, I'm sure Jen would be happy to see us again."

"I'd worry about her breathing that Washington D.C. air when she steps into the terminal at Dulles. Everyone who breathes it seems to get pregnant this year." Mac chuckled.

"Actually, I'm surprised Harriet hasn't." Harm turned to face his wife.

"Well, it's still May, it's early yet." Mac laughed.

"When Jen shows up, you guys can fund your own committee. Call it 'Pregnant Washington Mothers for Peace' or something." Harm smiled as he worked his arms around his wife.

"I don't like that." Mac wrinkled her nose.

"Well, you could call it 'Pregnant Washington Mothers for Everlasting War' but I don't think anyone would go for it." Harm grinned.

"You are a lovable jack-ass, you know that?" She giggled.

0118 ZULU

AIR FORCE ONE

EN ROUTE BACK TO WASHINGTON

The funeral had been a fitting tribute to a great man and Kat had written a first class eulogy for the President to deliver. Presidents Ross and Russell sat in the Presidential office, Stacy had joined them a few minutes ago when they opened the bottle of Jack Daniels. "To him." President Russell raised his glass.

"To him." Nate and Stacy raised theirs as well. The three glasses met and clinked together. They each downed their drink. "Sir, when did you first meet the President?"

"Actually, it would be the same time that I met President Russell, though I'm sure he doesn't remember." Nate chuckled. "It was President Reagan's first inauguration day and my dad had brought the entire family up to Washington for the weekend."

"Wait, I remember that day." President Russell interrupted. "I remember thinking that I'd never seen a fifteen year-old kid with a beard like a Bedouin."

"That was me." Nate chuckled. "The rest of the family looks like something out of _Leave it to Beaver_ and I look like a cross between Grizzly Adams and Lawrence of Arabia. Anyway, Dad drags us over to introduce us to this Senator who had helped him through his hearings before the Fulbright Committee a few years earlier."

"Anyway, my dad and Andy stood aside talking to each other and he came over to talk to them." Nate paused. "He walked right over, shook my hand and made a joke about my beard when dad headed back over to be with the family."

"For those years when I was the Minority Leader in the Senate and he decided to get involved in Middle Eastern politics, I swear, I thought he'd have us picking sand out of our teeth for generations." Andrew Russell huffed.

"You didn't tell him?" Stacy asked.

"You never had to tell him. He was such a good man, such a decent man that you just knew when he was beating himself up if he thought he did something wrong. I remember standing in the oval one night and seeing him hunched over looking out the window. This was right before he lost his bid for re-election. He looked right at me, he send 'Andy, I think I lost my way'." President Russell's gaze seemed to become distant.

"What did you tell him?" Nate hunched over in his chair.

"If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost. There is where they should be. Now put foundations under them." Andrew Russell answered. "I kept that quote on my desk in the oval office."

"Who said it?" Stacy looked to her boss.

"Henry David Thoreau." Nate answered. "He was a damn good man."

"To him." Andrew Russell filled the glasses again and raised his to toast.

"To him." Nate replied and the two glasses clinked together.

0239 ZULU

ANNA ROSS' APARTMENT

FOGGY BOTTOM, WASHINGTON DC

Johnny-Reb was still in his Marine Green Class A uniform when he arrived at the door. He fumbled with the keys to the apartment but found that the door was open and unlocked. He walked into the entry hall of the apartment. "Anna, I'm home."

"What?" Sergei walked into the entry hall from the kitchen.

"Oh, hey, Sergei." Johnny chuckled and gave his friend a hug.

"Long day protecting the President?" Sergei asked as Johnny kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his jacket.

"Just keeping the world safe from democracy." Johnny grinned quickly and headed past him toward the living room. He quickly pulled Anna aside to talk to her. "Did you tell him?"

"Tell him what?" Anna questioned.

"That I live here?" Johnny pressed.


	32. Summer in the City

How in the space of five months, Washington D.C. goes from being the most frigid of cold to being a sweltering southern sauna had been a mystery to most people in the Ross administration who had grown up above the Mason-Dixon line. Gunny was the one exception and when it got hot and everyone began complaining about melting under the weight of suits in ninety degree weather, Gunny buckled and talked to the President about reforming the dress code for the weather. Okay, so now they could wear golf shirts and jeans, he was hoping that even with a broken air conditioning system, they would be able to get some work done.

"Hey, boss." Stacy popped into Gunny's office, fanning her face with a blue folder.

"Hey, Stacy, what's on your mind?" Gunny had a few fans in his office in a futile attempt at climate control.

"The weather." She stated bluntly. "It's hot, you know and the air conditioning in my building is out. I was wondering if I might be able to stay at your place until they fix the AC in my building."

"Sure, uh, yeah." Gunny nodded quickly trying not to focus on the fact that her nipples were threatening to poke right through her shirt. "Did you want to talk about anything else?"

"The campaign." She started.

"It doesn't start for us until the Republicans pick a nominee, we start before that we look like we're actually worried about it. We won 412 electoral votes last time and the President's approval ratings are over 60 and I'm using a FoxNews poll when I throw out that figure. I think ZNN put him at 65 percent on Tuesday and MSNBC put him at 67 percent, we're riding a Clintonesque wave of popularity here." Gunny grinned.

"The Republicans are infighting again, which is odd because that's really more something that Democrats have a history of." She intertwined her fingers as she sat down. "They've got Governor Larry Burke of Kansas who's this right wing conservative Bible thumper; ex-Governor Chet Adams of Vermont who is a Reagan conservative and Senator Norm Coles of Virginia who's this odd moderate Republican who actually votes with us from time to time."

"Coles is running? Are you sure?" Gunny got up out of his chair.

"Yeah, he just announced on ZNN." Stacy nodded and Gunny bounded out of his office with her on his heels. Luckily, he found Charlie walking through the bullpen. Gunny called over to him.

"Yo, Charlie!" Gunny called. The Deputy Chief of Staff stopped in his tracks to wait for his boss to catch up with him. "Is Coles really running?"

"That's why I'm not going to be sleeping nights." Charlie answered. "A Republican who backed our middle class tax cut, who's backing the fact that we're going to create a budget surplus on the next budget round and backing post-secondary education subsidies for lower income families."

"What would he have against us?" Stacy queried.

"Abortion, euthanasia, gay marriage; all the GOP G spots." Charlie leaned on a computer.

"I thought 61 percent of the country supported a woman's right to choose." Stacy furrowed her eyebrows.

"Yeah, but the other 39 percent always vote. Only maybe half of that 61 percent votes, then when you factor in gay marriage and euthanasia, that 39 percent becomes 45 really quick." Charlie answered. "The DNC is throwing a fit! I think the Chairman is threatening to hop off the ledge."

"Talk him down; remind him that we have an incumbent who's massively popular and can create voter turnout like it's nobody's business." Gunny had calmed and was headed back toward his office.

"Boss, have you seen the latest regional tracking poll?" Charlie waved the few pages of paper in the air.

"On the President? Yeah, 67 in the pacific west, 74 in the Northeast, 52 in the south, 55 in the interior west, 60 in the southwest and 60 in the Midwest." Gunny leaned against the door to his office.

"No, I mean for the First Lady, they're through the roof." Charlie handed the papers to him.

"Of course they are, she's pregnant." Gunny huffed.

"No, I just got to these, they got lost in my office, and they're from before the pregnancy was announced." Charlie adjusted his glasses.

"These are real?" Gunny raised his eyes above the edge of the paper to look at Charlie.

"In the South, 86 percent; in the interior West, 89 percent. The First Lady is a Heartland favourite, she's the national mommy." Charlie continued. "Her lowest favourability is 73 percent and that's in the Northeast, ironically enough."

"They've obviously never heard her talk on abortion. She's one fiery pro-choice gal." Stacy chuckled.

"Yes, but she's young, beautiful, strong on national defence, always conservatively dressed and almost impeccably so and seemingly perpetually pregnant." Gunny flipped to the next page. "Polling on the Vice President?"

"Still strong in Texas and the Southwest. But his favourability is lowering in the peripheral Deep South." Charlie answered.

"Didn't we pick the Vice President three years ago because he could deliver southern states?" Gunny looked back at the stats.

"We did and he did and that's why our electoral vote count was 412 instead of hovering around 370." Charlie rubbed the beads of sweat off his forehead. "We've got a good President here, Gunny. I want to put him in the history books as an American monument, right up there with Truman and Roosevelt and Kennedy and the only way we do that is with another big electoral victory."

"So, you want to try to talk to the President about requesting the Vice President's resignation after the first term?" Gunny hushed his voice. "We don't talk about this here. The Vice President is a close friend of the President's and basically his Federal political mentor."

"I know, I ran the first campaign. Still, we need to think about it. We've got Speaker Jordan who is a force in Texas and Senator McLaren who's a leader in the border South." Charlie answered. "We keep him, we win Texas and maybe Arkansas and Louisiana; we'll win Missouri and Virginia on the President's steam."

"The Vice President is a close friend of the President. I don't care if it's electoral dieting, we don't talk about this again." Gunny handed the papers back to Charlie.

"Yes, sir." Charlie nodded slowly.

1801 ZULU

OPNAVS OFFICE – PENTAGON

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Bax leaned on the doorframe to his old friend's office. "Place looks different then it did when I was here." He mused.

"Yeah, well, I had the picture of Nimitz moved." Harm chuckled. "How you doing, Chief?" Harm couldn't believe he was calling his friend that.

"Still hard to believe." Bax laughed. "I never thought I'd be the Chief of Naval Operations for the entire US Navy."

"Youngest one in history. You could serve three Presidents." Harm kicked back in his chair. "Think the President is trying to send a message that guys in their forties have something to offer to guys who've been sitting behind Washington desks for twenty years?"

"I think he's trying to be the President." Bax answered as he settled in the chair. "You want to come golfing with us out at Hilton Head in a few weeks?"

"Who else is going?" Harm asked.

"Speaker of the House, I hear he's got a mean slice." Bax grinned. "What do you say?"

"Think you can give me a few days off for vacation, Chief?" Harm was careful to maintain decorum even now that his boss was one of his best friends.

"Harm, it's been awhile since the Department of the Navy had a matter so deathly urgent that it required pressing attention and we couldn't be reached out on the golf course." Bax answered. "Harm, you've got fifty-one days accumulated leave on the books, a pregnant wife and young kids; you've got to take them on vacation."

"Speaking of pregnancy, how did the honeymoon go?" Harm decided to tactically switch the topic.

"I'm not the type to kiss and tell." Bax mused again.

"Do I really need to round up female midshipmen from the class of '85 to say different?" Harm grinned.

"Okay, a lot has changed in the last thirty years." Bax covered. "I'm married now and to my knowledge, Jen is not pregnant. Which, I think, makes her the only woman in D.C. to be in that condition from what I've seen. When is Bobbi due anyway?"

"Some time in the next ten days." Harm answered. "You're going to want to trust me on this one. Sturgis has never been this jumpy in his life. Every time the phone rings he looks like he's got to give the nuclear 'go' order."

"You were like that when Mac was pregnant with Sasha but by the time Tommy came around you had calmed down a little. I bet with this one, you aren't nearly as panicky." Bax assured his friend. "Do you know the sex yet?"

"Got the ultrasound results back a couple of weeks ago." Harm replied.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Are you going to give me an order?" Harm toyed.

"Nah, I'm too lazy. How about this, you tell me and if anyone asks, we'll say that I gave you an order." Bax flippantly waved his hand.

"It's a boy." Harm smiled.

"I thought you were supposed to be more likely to have girls as you got older." Bax pondered aloud.

"Yeah, well, when have I ever done anything the way I was supposed to?" Harm laughed openly. Bax hauled himself up out of the chair to head out of the office.

"Golf at Hilton Head in a couple weeks?" He questioned as he shook Harm's hand.

"I'll talk to Mac." Harm answered with a smile.

0119 ZULU

GUNNY'S APARTMENT

3 BLOCKS FROM THE CAPITOL

"I can't believe we got out of work before 8pm, that's got to be some kind of miracle." Stacy kicked off her shoes. "Nice apartment!" She looked around. "Definitely a guy's apartment though."

"Is that because of the fifty-five inch TV or the big poster of the blonde on the hood of the car?" Gunny laughed and reached for the remote. "Or the fact that the only thing creating a pleasant smell in the living room is one scented candle that my niece sent me for my last birthday."

"I think it's got to be the colour scheme. It's very dark, very brooding, very Parris Island." She settled down on the couch. "I guess that comes from you being a Marine."

"It's a possibility." Gunny suddenly felt nervous.

"So, where do I sleep?" Stacy looked around. "Do I take the couch?"

"Nah, I can take the couch. You should take the bed." Gunny sunk down into his recliner.

"I'm not kicking you out of your bed in your apartment." She laughed. "You can take chivalry a bit far." She went to give him a playful tap across the chest but she misjudged and her fingertips grazed his muscles. "We could……share." Her teeth slowly sank into her bottom lip again.

"I don't know what they teach at Wellesley, two people in a bed makes heat rise, I thought the point was to stay cool in the middle of a frighteningly hot summer." He grinned and headed into the kitchen. "I'll make a nacho platter, what do you want to watch?"

"MSNBC?" She questioned aloud trying to screw with his head.

"No work!" Gunny shouted.

"Come on, Coles is going to be on Matthews. You know that Matthews loves eating Moderate Republicans for breakfast." Stacy hunched over in her seat. "We put the President on Scarborough Country last year; it was the media event of the season."

"Only because with the way debates are structured in this country. If the two sides were allowed to really go after each other in political debates, we wouldn't need to sit the President down with a Republican commentator so that he can flex his intellectual muscle." Gunny slid the plate down on to the coffee table. "Sometimes I think we need a Republican in this administration just so that President has someone to lock horns with and keep himself sharp."

"Doesn't exactly do well to keep harmony and unity in the administration." Stacy replied as she swirled a nacho in the vat of steaming cheese.

"Yeah, but you covered the last White House when the President was the Secretary of State, in spite of the fact that he was a Democrat. They seemed to craft good policy." Gunny cracked his knuckles.

"You've worked in Washington for three years; can you think of a single Republican that the President would want in this administration?" Stacy kicked her feet up into his lap which caused him to laugh.

"Harmon Rabb?" Gunny chanced.

"To my knowledge, not technically a Republican but you're right; the President would probably want to work with him if he could." Stacy watched Gunny's hands slowly make their way down to rest on her legs. "You let Charlie get to you today."

"I didn't." He protested. "But he did make something of a point, I mean; the Vice President isn't as strong a presence as we need him to be. Yeah, unless the Republicans pick a Texan, we'll likely carry Texas next time but I'm just not sure he's the guy for the ticket."

"You think we should have a Republican on the ticket?" Stacy raised her eyebrows. "I think the DNC would throw a fit."

"No, we don't need a Republican on the ticket but we need a more moderate voice in the administration. All our big voices have moved to the left since we got elected except for Secretary Chegwidden and that's only because the job of being Secretary of Defence requires you to be a mean son of a bitch." Gunny began to subconsciously rub her calf muscles, making it very difficult for her to argue with him. "Treasury, State, the AG and especially the President, we all moved left over the last few years."

"We're Democrats, left is not a bad direction; Liberal is not a swear word." Stacy coached him, trying desperately to not kiss him or give into some other primal carnal impulse to thank him. "You were right this morning and you're still right. The President would only request the Vice President's resignation if the entire staff went to him and told him that he pretty much had to. The Vice President is a good man, he'd tell the President before we ever had to."

"We still haven't settled the sleeping arrangements." Gunny shifted topics.

"I still think we could share the bed; turn down the AC a bit, it would save energy anyway. And the purpose of coming here was not to have AC freeze me to death; it was to not bake in my tiny little apartment." She gave him a sweet school girl-esque smile.

"We could just be re-hashing the problem we had at the G8 in Aberdeen last summer where we were forced to share a bed and you woke up spooned against my back." Gunny tried hard to force the smile from his face.

"That was a complete accident. I have no idea how we ended up like that." Stacy covered immediately. Her focus shifting from the fact that Gunny was still kneading her legs.

"Right." Gunny chuckled. "So, Coles is on Matthews?"

0234 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm took off his slippers and tossed them into the closet. He hated the idea of wearing slippers; it made him feel like an old man. All he needed was the pipe and flannel robe. His muscles and joints were already starting to feel it, that was one of the downsides to being middle aged and finally having to admit it. Mac was at six and a half months and for that at least he was thankful. She was transitioning from that "Moody Marine" phase where Harm had to exert himself to keep sharp objects and firearms out of her reach and she was heading into the "Maternal Marine" mode where she smiled more and rubbed her belly every five seconds.

"It's hell being pregnant." Mac waddled into the bedroom and eased herself down on to the bed. Harm would never actually use the word 'waddle' when describing how his pregnant wife walked; it was just one of those common sense things that you didn't mess with. "After this one, you're getting a vasectomy."

"What?!" Harm raised his voice but sitting up in surprise has knocked him off balance and off the bed on to the floor. "I think the heat has finally gotten to you, you know that?" Harm slowly got to his feet. "What happened to liking kids?"

"Oh, I love kids, but we've got a big family and I think we need to focus on raising the family that we have." Mac folded her hands in her lap.

"Mac, three kids isn't a big family." Harm started but his wife cut him off.

"Harm, the average American family has 1.8 kids. With three kids, we're almost twice the size of the average American family." Mac argued. She reached into the nightstand and produced her latest paper for the American Legal Journal. "Read this."

"Your paper on Roe?" Harm asked, raising his eyebrows. This was definitely not the kind of conversation you wanted to have when you were supposed to be winding down for the day. "Mac, I already know where you stand on this; I don't need to read it."

"I know, but I want you to read it anyway." Mac lightly touched her husband's forearm.

"You really wanted that Supreme Court seat, huh?" Harm looked up at his wife who wet her lips and nodded. Harm looked at the introductory paragraph quickly. It was an old trick that Father Jerry had taught him at Georgetown, you could tell if a paper was going to be any good or not just by reading the introduction. He finished reading and rubbed his eyes. "Wow." Was all he said.

"It's good?" She looked to him for approval, almost like when they were first at JAG.

"It's really good." Harm handed the article back to her. "It's a comprehensive legal and moral argument that requires a strong response to counter. Luckily for me, it's almost 2200, I had a long day and playing with the kids has worn me out, so I don't have to be the one to come up with that rebuttal." He leaned over and kissed his wife on the cheek. "One last thing." Harm looked drowsily over at his wife.

"What's up, honey?" Mac cuddled under the sheet.

"Bax wanted to know if we wanted to know if we wanted to go on vacation down to Hilton Head in a couple weeks." Harm fluffed the pillow vigorously.

"Who all would be going with us and the new Chief of Naval Operations?" Mac questioned. She knew Ethan Baxter and nothing was ever quite as he attempted to make it seem.

"Last count the Speaker of the House and the President." Harm answered, expecting a stern lecture to soon follow.

"Which means a bevy of Secret Service as well." Mac mused. "But it would be nice to see Jen and Bax. And it would be nice to have Nicole around so that there would be another pregnant woman to understand what I'm going through."

"I understand…" Harm was about to protest but Mac cut him off.

"No, you don't." She said calmly.

"How do you figure that?" He chanced.

"Because you're not a woman." She replied in her best maternal tone. "The kids would also have friends to play with. And of course you get to go golfing."

"Always a plus." He gave her a flyboy grin.

"So, yeah, flyboy, take the family on vacation!" She encouraged with a quick peck on the lips and clicking off the lamp.

0344 ZULU

ANNA ROSS' APARTMENT

FOGGY BOTTOM, WASHINGTON DC

Anna and Johnny had been putting off the inevitable argument for six weeks with great success. First, she had to bugger off for a month for her semi-annual carrier quals and then things with the President got busy enough that Johnny never seemed to make it back to the apartment before 2300. Tonight was the night for the argument. He'd gotten home early and so had she and when she came walking through the door, he was sitting there on the couch, gazing endlessly at the glow of the television set.

"We need to talk." The tough Texas twang pronounced.

"Don't try and be foreboding with me, I know you too well." She replied as she dropped her bag on to the chair. "You want to talk, talk."

"What are we going to tell Sergei?" Johnny decided that would be a pretty good place to open the discussion.

"The truth." Anna answered.

"Which version? Would that be the 'rent is too high in D.C. why not have a roommate?' version that we told your brother? Or how about the 'friends sharing the burden' version that we told Mikey? Then there's the 'we're together……kind of' version that we told my parents to get them off my back." Johnny began to pace. "Which version of the truth are we going to dust off this time?"

"Well what did you want to tell them?" Anna lashed out.

"I don't know, but the actual truth might have been a good place to start." Johnny replied, his own ire rising high.

"We can't tell anyone that, you know who my brother is." She started but Johnny cut her off.

"When the hell are you going to stop making excuses, Anna?" Johnny challenged. "I care for you deeply but you have to be _the_ most self-centred, irresponsible person I know. You blame everything but yourself for whatever situation you find yourself in, well, the fact of the matter is little missy that your life has been pretty goddamn easy. So, if something goes start looking in the mirror!"

"How dare you!" She reeled back and reached up and slapped him. "I don't expect your sympathy all the time, Johnny but I don't hold complete responsibility for what happened."

_Eight Months Earlier USS John C. Stennis -_

"_How you doing, kid?" Johnny had followed her from the flight deck trying to get answers. Now they were standing in the doorway to her stateroom._

"_Oh, you know, it's just tough some times." She smiled weakly at him._

"_Yeah, well, if you ever need to talk about it, come find me." He played heavily upon his twang knowing it made her smile. He went to turn away but she caught him by the arm. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"_

"_I just, I need a little help right now. A little support, think that's okay?" She seemed slightly coy. He nodded and followed her into her stateroom. _

_It was an awkward few moments. She was so tepid and needy but she was sure that she needed some comfort right now. She slowly ran her lips over the back of his neck. He was alive and male, there was some attraction to her, naturally. "Are you sure?" He whispered in a low voice._

"_Just be gentle with me. I've never done this before." She pushed him back on to the rack._

_End Flashback – _

"Yeah, okay, what we did was stupid." Johnny admitted, he retreated into his bedroom. He had expected this, so he had a bag prepared and sitting on his bed. He grabbed the bag and slung it over his shoulder. Johnny walked back out into the living room. "You might be able to live with the lies, Anna." He stood in the doorway and looked at her. "But that's not how I was raised. I'm going to spend the night somewhere else, maybe with Sergei. That is, if he still wants to talk to me after I tell him the whole truth."

"Johnny, don't!" Anna rushed over to the door.

"It takes forty-four minutes for me to walk to his apartment from here. That gives you plenty of time to decide whether you want to call him up and tell him the truth." Johnny closed the door behind him and Anna sank to the ground with her back pressed up against it.

1234 ZULU

GUNNY'S APARTMENT

3 BLOCKS FROM THE CAPITOL

Gunny staggered out of bed. God damn it! It was 0830 in the blessed AM on a Saturday, why the hell was he up? There was no international crisis, just a few CIA briefings and OMB documents to go through. He could sleep in, maybe crack a bottle of sangria and watch the Nationals a little later. He pushed open the door to the bathroom and heard a loud shriek.

"Gunny!" It was Stacy. She was in his shower. He couldn't remember why.

"Oh, it's too early for this shit." He complained aloud. "Don't worry, I can't see anything through all the steam." He assured her.

"Wasn't exactly my concern." She chuckled lightly. "I suppose I could use someone to wash my back." She stated seductively hoping to entice him only to find that he had left the bathroom.

"Too early for this shit." Gunny muttered as he headed into the kitchen to make breakfast. Why was there a beautiful blonde naked woman in his shower? He still couldn't remember. The heat always did screwy things with his memory. His sensory perception began to come back as he threw bacon into the frying pan. He remembered smelling her perfume on his sheets. Had they slept together? Well certainly not in the biblical sense, or else she wouldn't have shrieked when he came walking into the bathroom minutes earlier. "Too early for this shit." He muttered again while cracking a few eggs.

"Want to go for a run after breakfast?" She asked, walking into the kitchen in a bathrobe while towelling her hair.

"You have it backwards." He stated. "Typically, one runs, then showers, then eats. If you eat then run, what you ate tends to come up."

"The philosopher of cross-country running strikes again." She laughed as she sat at the table with a copy of the Washington Post. "Thanks for letting me stay here until they get the AC at my place up and running again."

"How long is that going to be anyway?" Gunny tried to loosen up his shoulders.

"It's an old D.C. apartment building, so anywhere between two weeks and October." She smiled and got up from her chair to put the coffee on. He had to admit that she looked beautiful in the white cotton bathrobe, even though it covered her from ankle to chin. She was the Press Secretary, the public face of this administration on a day-to-day basis with the press. She represented the White House well: young, educated and cerebral while maintaining a toughness and a tranquility that balanced their logic. There wasn't a lot of him in that. He wasn't that young, educated or cerebral but he certainly was tough. Maybe that was his contribution to the image.

He caught the toast as it popped out of the toaster and slid it onto two plates. He picked the bacon up out of the pan and dropped it on to the plates and did the same with the eggs. "Good Morning." He smiled drowsily.

"You walked in on my shower, I think we're past that." She grinned.

"I didn't see anything," he protested, "damn it." He added and she suddenly looked surprised.

"You saying you were trying to be a peeping tom?" She lifted some food to her lips.

"No, I'm saying that when I make a mistake that – you know what? Forget what I was saying, eat your breakfast." He chortled and gave his head a shake.

"Are you sure? You seemed to be striving for some great metaphysical insight there. I'd hate to think that I interrupted that." She smiled that sweet smile that so easily disarmed reporters in the briefing room. The v-neck of the robe opened slightly to reveal the bronze her skin and her cleavage. His puritanical sexual morals forced him to not stare but cast occasional glances.

"Just don't get used to this, I don't make breakfast all that often." He tried to harden up that outer shell again.

"Oh, well now I feel special that you made it in the first place." She toyed. "You're not still letting the whole Charlie thing from yesterday eat you up are you? Because if it'll help, I'll tie him down and we can attach his nipples to a car battery."

Gunny laughed so hard that he almost made himself a coffee fountain. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Want to go to a Nationals game later?" She asked.

"You…have…tickets?" He tried to talk while chewing.

"When the team moved to D.C. they set aside a booth for White House staff. Being as the only person who can overrule you is the President, I'd say we could use the booth today with little incident." She got up to take the dishes over to the sink. "Should I call the stadium or should you?"

"They better here it from the Chief of Staff himself." Gunny's chest puffed out whenever he got the chance to use his job title. She stepped into his personal space and put her fingertips in the middle of his chest.

"You just love the idea that you can do…anything, with all that power pounding, surging, coursing through your veins don't you?" She used a dangerously low tone.

"You have fun mocking me don't you?" He smiled.

"I really do, yeah." She giggled and headed off to change.


	33. Don't Ask Me Why

_A/N: Alright, the story's getting into campaign season again, so, things are going to sound a lot more political. I realize this may make a few people uncomfortable, if it does, I apologize. I welcome any criticisms on any issue and I'm willing to discuss any conflicts or queries you may have._

The lock clicked behind Gunny as he called senior staff into his office. It was the Friday before Red Mass. With both the Supreme Court and Congress back in session, this meant this was the last government session before the Presidential election a year from now. "Alright, we have an incumbent President that's going to start campaigning to hold on to his job next May or June or whenever the Republicans pick a nominee. We learned last time that that can be as late as August. We've got one session of Congress left to talk with the President and get things accomplished. Tonight, he's going to call us into the Oval for a bull session. Everything is on the table, this is the record that we run on next year, so if you've got something he needs to hear; tell him."

"Patient's Bill of Rights? Getting serious college subsidies into the next budget since we scrapped it this time to get a surplus?" Stacy crossed her legs.

"It's all on the table." Gunny sat on the edge of his desk.

"What about gun control?" Morley chanced, looking out the window. Suddenly the room got very quiet. "We have a serious crime problem in this country. A serious one. Thousands of murders due to gun violence every year. Now, I'm all in favour of slinging a Winchester over my shoulder and walking into the woods to take down a deer but let's talk about trigger-locks and closing the background check loopholes."

"You want to bring it up, bring it up but I don't think that the President's going to like it." Gunny answered.

"Not to mention the fact that it would create an electoral schism in the Democratic Party. Three quarters of Democrats and a quarter of Republicans support it but it would be a fight and by the time it got to the Senate, there's no guarantee it would be effectual any more and even if it got through the Senate and on to the President's desk, he would likely veto it or pocket veto it. If he didn't this election changes dramatically and the President wants a second term where he can do what he wants and doesn't have to worry about being elected again." Charlie butted in.

"We've got 244 House Democrats and 59 Senate Democrats; the people gave us a mandate in the midterms and in the general election three years ago. Let's do something with it." Stacy argued.

"Patient's Bill of Rights, subsidies for children of working class families at public universities, campaign finance reform, lobbying reform and raising café standards is something." Gunny argued. "It's a hell of a lot, more then we can get passed."

"We've got the death penalty, which isn't a deterrent. We've got no substantive gun control and the Republicans circumvent every government assisted attempt to alleviate the poverty situation in the name of private enterprise." Morley pushed the argument. "Political realities mean we can't curb the cause of violent crime, the tools of violent crime and that the death penalty doesn't deter violent crime. I believe we are currently the definition of screwed."

"We've got a good agenda." Charlie tried to mediate.

"We've got packing peanuts and you know it!" Morley accused. "What about social security or Medicaid? They're both going bankrupt, but won't clutch at those third rails because, _it's campaign season!_"

"You want to take gun control to the President? Fine, do it, but latest polls put 53 of the country in opposition to further gun-control measures. So, if you want to continue doing good in this administration two years from now, I suggest you drop it and let us run on issues that are going to get us elected." Gunny got right up in Morley's face.

"I suggest that the two of you both back off." Stacy stepped between them. "We've got one session of Congress guaranteed to us for this Presidency and Republicans that are going to want to hold us up, so let's bear down and fight them."

"Agreed." Everyone in the room stated at the same time.

1718 ZULU

BETHESDA NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER

BETHESDA, MARYLAND

Harm stood outside the nursery staring through the glass. Matthew Francis Rabb flailed and smiled up at his dad who was still pressed up against the glass. It never ceased to amaze Harm how you felt after childbirth, although he imagined the relief for Mac was much different then his own. Little Matthew didn't really resemble his namesake, but he was definitely a Matthew. He was a tall but not particularly heavy looking child with his mom's skin tone and his father's eyes and dark hair.

After watching his son for a few more minutes, he headed back to Mac's room down the hall to see if she was still sleeping. He knew how she hated to be inactive but he hoped that they wouldn't have to re-live the post partum depression that she suffered after Tommy was born. After Sasha was born she only needed a few hours before she was trying to get out of bed and wander the hospital, the nurses threatened to tether her down if she didn't get some rest.

Mac lightly stirred in the bed and Harm walked up to the chair by her bedside. He took her hand in his and lightly ran his thumb over her knuckles. Mac was such a trooper, the toughest woman that he ever knew, it was a terrific toughness; the kind of thing that had guided her through the stormy waters of her life. Now, she was his loving wife, the mother of their three children and a professor of military and international law at George Washington University. He remembered the first time that the two of them met and how stunned he'd been to see her standing there.

The Diane resemblance aside, Sarah MacKenzie, now Rabb, had a presence, a magnetism that was overwhelming. It had been that presence, that fierce independent streak that had drawn him in so quickly and so deeply. Maybe it was seeing her smile, hearing her laugh or fighting her in court then flirting with her outside of court that had done it. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to pinpoint the moment that he had really fallen for her, there were so many moments. In the car, in the rain on the way out to Red Rock Mesa, or when they spent two days in the woods trying to outrun crazed hunters, or there was the Norfolk pier or the USS Watertown or any one of a dozen close situations. Or maybe he fell for her once and like Homer Simpson on that damn cliff; he just kept falling with each new layer of Sarah that he encountered.

Slowly, her long eye lashes fluttered open. "Good morning, sunshine." He whispered as he kissed her cheek.

"It's 12:18 PM, flyboy." She reminded her hubby.

"You're eventually going to have to tell me how you do that. Especially since you've apparently taught my daughter to do it." He smiled widely. "You feeling good?"

"Very good. Are you going to talk to the nurses about letting me out of here today?" Mac went right into the heart of the issue.

"Mac, take some time to rest and recuperate, would you?" Harm lightly stroked her hair back out of her face. "I just checked on Matt in the nursery, he looks great. He's got your skin tone, but he's got my eyes." He kissed her forehead lightly.

"I have the strongest urge to cry right now and I don't know why." Mac chuckled against his shoulder as he held her tight.

"I can promise you wouldn't be the only one." He answered.

1955 ZULU

THE WEST WING

WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

"Gunny, you're going to want to see this." Stacy picked the remote up off his desk and pointed it at the TV in his office. She turned to ZNN and the annoying image of the Reverend Gordon Stanley popped up.

"Reverend, what are you hoping to accomplish with your march on the National Mall on Saturday?" The journalist asked.

"Well, we hope to convey to the President our message that just because the Democrats control the White House and Congress and are now making moves to fill the Supreme Court, they do not have the authority nor the mandate to override our traditional values." The Reverend Stanley answered.

"Never a wedge issue that he couldn't exploit." Gunny deadpanned.

"Reverend, you're taking specific issue with gay marriage, why is that? The journalist pressed.

"Well, it's because it's a major fight for our traditional heartland values. Marriage is pillar of our society and it is a _Christian_ institution." Reverend Stanley puffed out his chest in a superior air of challenge and Stacy clicked off the television.

"President's going to want to say something about this. He's going to do something. I think we have to try to prevent the words 'Jim Crow' from coming out of his mouth." Gunny folded his arms in front of his chest.

"Yeah, well the President is no great fan of Reverend Stanley's. I don't know how we prevent him from talking to a member of the Democratic Gay Caucus or the Log Cabin Republicans about introducing a gay marriage bill that he doesn't expect to pass." Stacy sat on the edge of his desk.

"I'm not sure that we don't." Gunny answered. "Think about it, we put a lot of moderate Republicans in some tough spots. If they endorse the bill, the Christian Right positions to kill them off in the primaries. If they don't vote for it, then their moderate districts will wreak vengeance on them at the polls next year."

"It's a 49-46 issue. 49 percent of people support it, 46 percent oppose it which makes it a statistical tie." She turned to face him. "It could bite us in the ass."

"We're Democrats; practically everything has the potential to bite us in the ass." Gunny joked.

"Gunny, President wants you." Charlie popped his head in the office. "Weren't we all supposed to head in there for a meeting like right now?"

"President's thirty minutes behind schedule, considering that it's 5pm, we're actually ahead of schedule." Gunny answered. "You hear Reverend Stanley?"

"Yeah, crazy evangelical twisting the values of Jesus Christ and trying to elect a Republican, I was trying to contain my surprise." Charlie rolled his eyes. "What were you guys talking about when I walked in?"

"Election strategy; how many vulnerable Republicans are there in the House? You know, with moderate districts?" Stacy asked as the three of them moved out into the bullpen.

"One in Connecticut, five in Pennsylvania, six in Florida, four in Ohio, two in Texas, three in New York, two in Michigan, one in New Jersey and a dozen in California. Why?" Charlie looked over his shoulder at Stacy.

"We were talking about having the House float a gay marriage bill as a way to separate the moderate Republicans either from their party or their electorate." Stacy replied.

"Not bad, but it hurts us overall in a presidential election year. Next year's the last year we have where we can pick off vulnerable Republican Senators and there are only two: Costas in Nevada and Perez in Florida. Not to mention we've got this little thing called the Presidential election, you think Gay marriage is going to play into that?" Charlie countered.

"We lost nine congressional seats in the midterms, if we can build up a cushion in the House then maybe the sixth year curse won't obliterate us and we'll get a full second term in which to do something." Gunny retorted.

"We have to win a second term first." Charlie's voice was rising a little. "This motion might kill off a few moderate Republicans and help us in the House but it kills us in the Presidential race, right now we're running ahead in Nebraska, South Dakota, North Dakota and Montana and without Wayne in the race like last time, we're ahead by twelve points in Nevada, eight in Arizona and nine in Colorado; all states we lost last time, do not screw this up before an election."

"Screw what up?" The President asked walking into the bullpen. The staffers came to attention.

"Sir, I thought you were a half hour behind today?" Gunny squared up and got formal.

"I invented the Ross principle. I started taking two meetings at a time and caught up." He answered. "We were supposed to have a meeting in the Oval on initiatives for the coming congressional session. You three were late."

"Yes, sir." Gunny stammered and nodded. "Well, you see, Reverend Stanley was on TV…"

"I know I saw that." The President nodded calmly. "Anyone want to tell me why _Democrats_, the party of Civil Rights, is reluctant about standing up on this issue?"

"Because we could lose the election, sir." Charlie answered simply.

"Charlie, what the hell good is winning an election if you don't do anything with the power once you have it?" Nate replied. "Aside from me doing something about this march of Religious Oppressors for the Implementation of Leviticus tomorrow, what else do we have?"

"For this session, I think we pass café standards and a big lobbying-campaign reform package. They'll help us in the campaign. Without Texaco and Chevron pouring into Republican coffers and Focus on Family and Christian Coalition running 527 ads, we'll have a massive advantage." Charlie explained. "These things get passed, boss, I'm telling you. All the Democrats are going to support them. We might get a handful of Republicans to back it but we don't need them."

"We have to do something about this Gay Marriage thing; we can't just sit on our hands." The President huffed and gave his head a shake. "Do we have anything else?" Morley stepped forward.

"Gun control, sir. Not complete control, just trigger-locks and background checks. That's it." Morley explained. "We need to start somewhere, boss."

"No, you know that if we run a campaign on Gays, God and Guns we will lose." The President answered. "Come get me when we've got something to counter Reverend Stanley's march tomorrow." He headed back toward the Oval.

2115 ZULU

McCAULEY'S PUB

FOGGY BOTTOM, WASHINGTON DC

This time it was Sergei sitting at the bar, slowly nursing a vodka martini and wounded pride. It had been a little more then six weeks since Johnny-Reb came to his door and told him everything, mono a mono, friend to friend and face to face. He was waiting for her to come into the bar; he was finally able to talk to her without being so angry that he could spit nails. She tells him she wants to be friends, like in the old days before everything went completely crazy and then she refuses to be honest with him. He ran a hand through his hair and stared at the liquor bottles behind the bar.

He had drowned his sorrows and the better part of his liver in martinis over the last hour. The sterility of vodka was a stark hearkening back to his days in Russia when that was what the government used to put in your canteen. He could smell her perfume above the putrid aroma of scotch when she entered the bar. It was some delicate combination of vanilla and coconut that inflamed his senses. Her heels clicked against the floor of the bar as she walked over toward him.

McCauley's was a typical Irish place, darker and danker with a little neon green shamrock light behind the bar and a hardwood floor. There were going to be no comforting gestures when she approached the bar this time. No soft, supporting hand on the back, no platonic hug, just solemnity. It was as if she was a Catholic seeking penance of her priest. She stood behind the barstool on his left. "Is this seat taken?" She chanced.

"It's a free country." He tried to remain nonchalant.

"Don't be angry." Her tone was soft, an attempt to calm him.

"Did you come here to tell me what to feel?" Sergei ordered a straight vodka from the bartender.

"I don't feel I have anything to explain to you. We're both over twenty-one, we're both adults. Things happen, you take responsibility for them, you move on." She wrapped her long slender alabaster fingers around the glass in front of her.

"You don't owe me an apology for anything you did. You owe me an explanation about why you felt you needed to hide it from me because for the life of me, I don't understand that part." He watched as the vodka slinked out of the bottle and into his glass. "We always seem to come back to this one point, we can't trust each other. Haven't been able to for a long time it seems."

"I can trust you, I always trusted you." She protested but he just chuckled and shook his head.

"You'll excuse me if I don't believe you." He grinned that sly Russian grin. He was more then slightly drunk but he didn't really care much. "Your problem is that you have serious daddy issues, it prevents you from trusting men. The General didn't molest you or abuse you, in ways he did something far worse; he ignored you." She looked appalled but he kept right on going. "Yup, your older brothers were the golden boys and your sister was the innocent, well-behaved one but it was the tomboy who got ignored, right?" He huffed.

"Don't you dare bring my family into this." She cautioned, getting slightly pissed off.

"Why? You bring them up all the time when it's convenient for you. You need to face the facts, Anna, life's happening around you. You either sink or swim." Sergei protested, downing the vodka in one ham-fisted shot.

"Your liver seems to be sinking." She quipped.

"And why the hell not?!" Sergei joked boisterously and drew attention from the crowd at the bar. He grabbed his latest shot and turned to face his fellow patrons. "To the President!" He cheered at the top of his lungs.

"Fuck the President!" One of the other patrons shouted.

"Fuck you!" Sergei answered. Then when the fight broke out, things got kind of hazy.

0111 ZULU

BETHESDA NAVAL MEDICAL CENTER

BETHESDA, MARYLAND

Harm and Mac sat together in her room watching little Matthew cradled in his mother's arms. "He's got your nose. I wonder how that happened?" Harm mused as he touched the tip of his son's nose with his index finger.

"I want to know how he got your eyes, I'd figure that anyone with olive skin normally got brown eyes not blue." Mac was wearing a crooked smile as that soft maternal glow of hers seemed to light up the room, even though night was descending outside the hospital. Sasha and Tommy had wanted to be here, and they had been by earlier but Trish had pushed the two of them out the door and back to the house to work on their homework.

Mac paused for a second just to contemplate the future, she wondered what kind of man little Matthew would grow up to be. She knew that it went all too fast. Tommy was already seven and raising all kinds of holy hell around the house and getting away with it. He had his dad's smile and confident swagger, she couldn't punish him, he was a like mini Harm. Matt on the other hand didn't look much like either of them. She wondered if he would be a fierce intellectual or a strong athlete; whether he would be outspoken and confident or shy and mysterious. Would he be a lawyer? A Pilot? A Doctor? Here was a young man with a world of options ahead of him. She lightly tickled his belly and he giggled and smiled.

"What are you thinking about?" Harm whispered lovingly in her ear.

"Possibilities." She answered. "I never thought when we made that deal on the steps outside JAG all those years ago that it might lead to this." She motioned with her index finger.

"Oh, I think a lot more then that deal led to the two of us." He kissed her forehead.

"Sweet talker." Mac teased. She felt the cell phone vibrate against his chest. "I thought you weren't supposed to have those things in here?"

"So, I lied to the nurse, shoot me." He joked and reached into his inside pocket.

"I was tempted to when I was in labour." She joked right back as he pulled out the cell and answered the call. Harm got up off the side of the bed and walked toward the doorway of the private room. She watched her husband nod a few times and give a few mono-syllabic answers. She could tell that he was going to have to leave soon. After a few minutes, Harm shut the phone and headed back toward the bed.

"I have to go, Sergei got arrested in a bar brawl." Harm kissed Mac on the cheek.

"How the hell did that happen?" She asked, her brow furrowed.

"I don't know, but I intend to find out." Harm replied as he dashed through the door.

0213 ZULU

THE OVAL OFFICE

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

Gunny entered the Oval Office to speak with the President at the end of the day. If the truth be told, he was looking forward to the campaign trail next year. Sometimes it was nice to get out of the White House. Hell, more often then not it was nice to get out of the White House. "What's on your mind, Gunny?" Nate dropped the papers from the Interior Department on the coffee table between the two couches.

"Gay Marriage, sir." Gunny started.

"Well, that's very flattering but I don't think I'm your type." The President joked. "What about Gay Marriage did you want to talk about?"

"Sir, I just think that at 49 percent support, a lot of the country isn't ready to push behind this yet. I think tomorrow, you let Reverend Stanley get up on his bully pulpit and you hope that ZNN and MSNBC play some of his more prejudiced and homophobic clips and that he scares a few independents away from the Republican Party." Gunny hunched forward as he sat on the couch. "Monday morning, the honourable Congressman from Vermont is going to introduce a bill to strike down 'don't ask, don't tell'. 61 percent of the country supports that, you can sign it without any harm to your appeal to Independents or moderate Republicans and you soothe the Democratic base."

"Sometimes the political realities of this job suck, Gunny." The President complained. "I really want to get in their and fight them on some of this crap."

"I hear you, sir." Gunny nodded. "But the best time to fight them on this is next term when we don't have to worry about getting elected again. Then we can come out swinging, we may have a filibuster-proof Senate which will help and we should continue to hold the majority in the House."

"Yeah, well, let's just hope that our committee chairman can keep a tight leash on their hearings." The President sat back on the couch.

"Just one more thing, we had to send Stacy down to the 14th Precinct to bail your sister out." Gunny winced, preparing for the inevitable backlash.

"What the hell was she in prison for!" Nate almost bounded off of the couch. "And why the hell wasn't I told immediately?!"

"We try to keep the kid stuff off your desk when you've had a rough day." Gunny answered with a self-satisfied chuckle. "Besides when your Marine One Pilot and your sister are involved in a bar fight, the Press Secretary should have as many details as possible because chances are, the press is going to want to know tomorrow morning."

"No chance we could just lock Anna and Sergei in the basement and force them to work it out?" The President chuckled.

"Might get us points with Communist China but I think the New York Times would whack us pretty hard, sir." Gunny joked. "Have you ever seen two people so blind to the obvious in your entire life." The President looked up to face Gunny with one eyebrow cocked and a straight look on his face that said 'pot calling the kettle black'. "What?" Gunny was suddenly aware of the scrutiny.

"Nothing." The President chuckled and shook his head. Just as the meeting was about to end, the Secret Service came running through the door. "What's up, Pete?"

"I just got a message from Harriet Roberts, sir. The First Lady went into labour at that dinner for the Democratic Women's Caucus." The Agent was breathing heavily.

"My kids sure do know how to make an entrance." Nate smiled and headed for the door. "They take her two GWU Hospital?"

"Yeah." The Agent nodded.

"Well, come on, Gunny. I'm going to need someone to talk to in the car." Nate gave his Chief of Staff a pat on the shoulder.

0324 ZULU

MASSACHUSETTS AVENUE

WASHINGTON, DC

The car was silent. Sergei was holding an ice pack over a black eye and he'd had to have his ribs bandaged by the paramedics. He looked like hell and Harm could just hear Sergei's Commanding Officer tearing into him when he went into work on Monday. "You want to talk about it?" Harm ventured.

"Not really." Sergei muttered, the paramedic had shot a little novocaine into his mouth to numb the pain. Harm had to chuckle a little to himself at his brother's obstructed speech. "This isn't funny."

"It _is_ a little funny." Harm replied, still chuckling to himself. "I mean you can't even just tell her what the hell is going on with you. Communication is the key with women."

"You learned this after pining after Mac for six years and watching her nearly get married to another man, right?" Sergei shot sarcastically.

"Don't get snippy with me, little brother." Harm warned quickly as they drove back toward Bethesda. "You're going to come with me to see your new nephew and sober up a little more. Then we're going to find someway of having you and Anna talk to each other without there being a lot of shouting and insults."

"And after this you intend to walk on water, right?" Sergei jibed sarcastically.

"How many bones in your face do you want to bruise tonight?" Harm questioned, getting slightly annoyed with Sergei's act.

"Alright, alright, I'll be good." Sergei raised his hands into the air in mock surrender. "What does my little nephew look like?"

"Not really like me or Mac at all." Harm sounded confused. "He's got Mac's skin tone and my eyes but other then that."

"He'll grow into it in time." Sergei remarked. "Maybe he'll be an olive skinned version of you?"

"I suppose anything's possible." Harm turned his full attention back on the traffic.

0718 ZULU

GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL

WASHINGTON, DC

The First Lady had been wheeled into the Delivery Room and Gunny and Stacy stood outside waiting for any news. "Busy news night for you, huh?" He glanced over at her.

"The birth of this kid should be a nice story change from the President's sister being taken down to a precinct for participation in a bar brawl." Stacy chuckled and took a seat with one of the Secret Service Agents. The other was in the Delivery Room facing toward the door. They could hear faint echoes of Nicole Ross screaming in the Delivery Room and Gunny gave a nod of appreciation of the situation and a slight chuckle.

"You sure you want to go through that in a couple of years?" He whispered to her.

"It's a couple of years off, I'll try and get myself mentally honed." She giggled. "Relax, we're mature adults, it's nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, right." Gunny added nervously. "It's just that the First Lady is a petite women and she's cursing up a storm in there."

"Your point being?" She eyed his playfully. "Petite women curse all the time."

"Yeah, but not her. I've seen the First Lady shut her own hand in a door and only use the word 'shoot!'. She must be going through some serious pain right now. I know some Marines who wouldn't even use language like that." He paused. "I guess it's just a little tough for me to even imagine seeing you in that kind of pain."

"That's sweet, in a Marine Corps, Full Metal Jacket kind of way." She bumped him in the ribs with her elbow. "I'm going to be barraged by the press the second the President comes out of that room. Lighten up and thank God that it isn't you."

"Trust me, I do. You work too hard." He grinned and the two of them leaned on each other shoulder to shoulder. A few dozen minutes later, the President came out wearing hospital scrubs from ankle to collar. He was tired but grinning from ear to ear.

He reached into the inside pocket and pulled out a couple of cigars. "You just carry these around with you, sir?" Gunny took the cigar that the President handed to him.

"When you have a pregnant woman in your life, Gunny, it becomes a reflex." Nate replied. Gunny and Stacy shared a knowing look at this comment which only left the President confused. "Too bad we can't smoke them in the hospital like in the fifties."

"Not something you should be saying out loud, sir." Gunny advised.

"You guys want to come and meet your god-daughter?" The President asked, the cigar still sticking out of his teeth. The three of them walked down the hall toward the room.

"When did you guys decide that Gunny and I would be the god-parents?" Stacy asked.

"And when did you find out the sex, none of us knew?" Gunny followed up.

"We decided that we didn't want to know until the birth. After four boys already, I think Nicole was a little. As for the godparents decision, that was made about a week ago." Nate smiled in a very paternal manner. They all walked into the room to see Nicole cradling her newborn who was dressed in her little pink hospital outfit.

"Say hello to Hannah Margaret Ross." Nicole introduced as Stacy went over to the little newborn.

"What is it about women and babies?" Gunny asked sarcastically and the President cocked his eyebrow again and gave Gunny his second no nonsense look of the night. "What?" Gunny questioned, trying to seem innocent.


	34. One Vote Down

_This is the last chapter of 2006, the next chapter will be posted January 8th once we're all back at college and able to get to our computers again. Consider this a season finale, of sorts. Hope you enjoy! Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah! Happy New Year!_

"Last big vote of 2011." Charlie strode into the bullpen. "We've gotten away with that big Lobbying-Campaign Reform Bill and higher fuel efficiency standards in the last month. Think we get away with this 'don't ask, don't tell gambit?"

"It's through committee, the House passed it 244-191 and now it's on the floor of the Senate." Gunny cracked his knuckles. "Debate started on the Senate floor fifteen minutes ago, looks like a close vote."

"Nine Democrats are for sure going to vote against it." Charlie mentioned. "They're up for re-election this year and they don't want to give the Republicans anything to whack them with. We've got one Senator on the fence, the freshman Senator from Kentucky. He says, he'll consider voting for it."

"Did you tell him that the White House would consider it a real favour." Morley stepped into the conversation.

"I did, he told me that he appreciated how important this was to the White House and that he would give it due consideration before casting his vote." Charlie replied.

"That snivelling son of a bitch!" Gunny cursed. "The President went to Kentucky three times during the midterms to campaign for him. He can't stiff us on this one."

"The Vice President has set down a sleeping bag in the freaking Senate, he's not moving from the chamber until every last Senator has cast their vote." Stacy stood with them.

"He's the tie-breaking vote." Kat walked over to join them. "This was a policy we should have struck down fifteen years ago, why the hell is everyone so reluctant to do what needs to be done?"

"Because the Senate is full of stodgy old men who remember their service in Vietnam and a time when a gay stigma got the piss pounded out of some poor guy in your platoon." Gunny looked back at the Deputy Communications Director.

"And that's the kind of thing that they want to enforce?!" Morley questioned.

"It's the kind of thing that's affecting their judgement." Gunny replied. "A few of the young Republicans are motivated by the Evangelical Christian lobby, sure. But a lot of these men have some military service on their record or someone in their family does."

"It's going to be a long evening and a long night." Stacy rolled her neck.

"Longer if someone filibusters." Kat reminded them.

"Let's go watch this on C-SPAN in the Oval office. This is the last big day of business we've got with Congress before they head home for Christmas and the New Year. Then we come back, it's the primary season for the Republicans and half of them will either be out campaigning or out stumping for the ones who _are_ campaigning." Charlie clapped his hands together. "Besides, the President sent down to the kitchen for some pizza and nachos so that we could actually eat something while the Senate debated and voted on the issue."

"You're still telling me that we might be one vote down, though?" Gunny turned to Charlie as they walked through the bullpen and toward the oval.

"The key word there being _might_, boss." Charlie reminded him.

"You guys head over to the Oval, the President and I have the press conference. OMB numbers were just agreed on by Democratic and Republican leadership. With the latest budget numbers, our surplus is going to be 16.6 billion dollars this year. The President wants to share the good news with the press." Stacy headed off toward her office to collect press briefing papers.

"Maybe we have him sit down on _Meet the Press_ with Russert this weekend and do a one on one for a full hour. It's the toughest interview in politics, but the President pulls it off every time." Gunny suggested.

"Sounds like a good idea to me." Stacy nodded and Morley rolled his eyes. Communications at the White House always got a little nervous when the President sat down with any interviewer that wasn't Oprah or Jon Stewart. Morley, Kat, Charlie and Gunny headed off for the Oval and Stacy headed for the briefing room.

2134 ZULU

OPNAVS OFFICE – PENTAGON

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm and Sturgis were glued to C-SPAN. This vote in the Senate was going to affect Navy policy after all and if the Navy was going to have to rewrite regulations on homosexuality, it would be best if the Deputy Chiefs of Naval Operations knew if they needed to start rewriting that policy tomorrow or never. Bax tapped on the door to Harm's office and walked in to join them.

"Close vote?" Bax asked as he took a seat in one of the big chairs in the office.

"Still doing speeches. At this point it's Senator Paulson of West Virginia going up against Senator Hayes of Mississippi." Harm answered.

"Paulson's the Democrat and Hayes is the Republican, right?" Bax checked.

"Yup." Harm answered as he reached for the Tostitos. "Paulson is also the President Pro Tempore of the Senate, ninety-four years old and still spry enough to likely take Hayes to the cleaners in a fistfight. How's Jen?"

"Doing great, she enrolled at GWU to get her Ph.D." Bax informed his friends who just kind of looked at him funny. "And no, she's not pregnant yet."

"Time's a wastin' buddy." Sturgis quipped.

"Yeah, you're getting up there in age." Harm added.

"Shut up, so are you." Bax retorted.

"True, but I have three kids." Harm pointed out.

"How are Mac and little Matt by the way? Sorry, I haven't been around to see them lately." Bax quickly shifted gears.

"Mac's doing good, I think she's got a little bit of cabin fever and she's eager to get back to work next semester. Matt's good. Not sleeping through the night yet, but otherwise good." Harm chuckled. "It's Sasha that's got me a little worried though."

"Why's that?" Bax questioned, suddenly concerned about his goddaughter.

"Harm's just being overprotective on account of who her best friend is." Sturgis jumped in. Bax was prepared to laugh but he settled for an explanation from Harm.

"Tim Ross." Harm stated quickly. "That kid is too smart for his own good."

"Harm, they're nine years old." Bax deadpanned.

"Eight," Harm corrected, "and Sasha's my little girl, I get to be protective."

"Protective is one thing, Harm. You stew about it." Sturgis laughed.

"Well, the kid is over at the house pretty much every night after school. Mac thinks the whole thing is really cute, but I don't know. I think Tim's a little bit too much like his dad." Harm was just having fun with it now.

"Harm, I reiterate, they're eight years old and they're just friends." Bax chuckled and turned his attention to Sturgis. "How are Bobbi and Izzy?" By Izzy, Bax was referencing young Isaiah Turner who had been born almost four months earlier.

"You know Bobbi, trying to conquer the world and be Supermom at the same time." Sturgis chortled.

"You should ask her if that title comes with a cape." Bax reached for a chip.

"I did." Sturgis dunked the nacho in some salsa.

"What did she say?" Bax was grinning from ear to ear.

"She reminded me that as Chairwoman of the Senate Armed Services Committee, she controls the spending for the Navy." Sturgis answered.

"Speaking of which, Sturgis. Your wife is about to give her speech before the Senate." Harm called everyone's attentions back to the TV and turned up the volume.

2215 ZULU

PRESS BRIEFING ROOM

WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

"Good evening, everyone." Stacy stood behind the podium and looked out into the press gallery. "I realize that this isn't our regular meeting time but I felt that certain things warranted the attention of the press. So, without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, The President of the United States."

Stacy stepped aside from the podium and the White House Press Gallery got to their feet. Nate walked into the briefing room and stood behind the podium. "I always wondered what it would take to get people to stand when I entered the room." He joked and the press had a good chuckle. "I have some very good news to report. In accordance with the latest numbers from the OMB, that's the Office of Management and Budget for the new guy from Reuters," the press had another chuckle, "and as agreed upon by both parties in Congress and my office, the budget for the coming fiscal year will produce a surplus of 16.6 billion dollars." The President looked up into the gallery for a second. "This is the first budget surplus since President Clinton. I guess I'll take your questions now."

"Mr. President," the reporter from CBS raised his hand, "early in the year, the White House was touting the possibility of college tuition subsidies for working class families, have you given up on that policy?"

"No, I agonized over the decision to postpone that policy rather heavily, I listened to the opinions of my advisors and I arrived at the conclusion that, while a college education is important, it was important to get the federal government into the black so that running the program didn't increase the size of the deficit." The President answered before calling on another reporter.

"Sir, how do you answer those critics who say that in signing the campaign and lobbying reform bill that was pushed by the Democrats in the House, you were serving your own interests and not necessarily the best interests of the people?" The reporter from the Wall Street Journal asked.

"A campaign should be a debate about ideas, a contest between two competing philosophies for the moral authority to govern. By getting rid of 527 ads what we've done is gone to length to ensure that the ideas of the candidates are more important then the ability of some special interest to throw mud. As for lobbying reform, government is supposed to be the representatives of the people, it cannot function in the purpose intended if the representatives are subject to the fundraising whims of major industries. The people belong in government independent of the influence of lobby groups." The President answered and moved on to the reporter from ZNN.

"Sir, we all know that next year's election is looming large on the horizon." She paused for a second.

"Is it, I hadn't noticed." The President joked, once again earning a few laughs.

"What I mean to ask, sir, is are you worried that the push of Senate Democrats for higher fuel efficiency standards will hurt you in states like Michigan that have economies dependent upon auto industry manufacturing?" The reporter pressed.

"This job is never easy, you can please some of the people some of the time and rarely can you please everyone. The reality of higher fuel efficiency standards is the same now as the realities of seatbelts were fifty years ago, the auto industry needs to keep up with energy concerns and we need to lower our dependence on foreign oil imports. You can't drill your way to energy independence, so regardless of how it may affect my electoral prospects, I felt the need to do the right thing. That having been said, I think the people of Michigan are a wise and insightful group and they'll acknowledge the necessity of this move." The President gave a paternal nod and moved on to the reporter from the Washington Post.

"Mr. President, right now the Senate is debating the passage of S1105, the bill that would end the 'don't ask, don't tell' policy from the military regulations and allow open homosexuals into the service, you're on record as supporting homosexual equality. How do you respond to those who say that this is just a response to Reverend Stanley's march against gay marriage at the National Mall a couple of weeks ago." The reporter had his tape recorder in the air.

"I'd say that equality is, or at least should be, the call of every President since Abraham Lincoln. A lot of us have tried in our small ways to make some impact whether the equality be based on gender, race or sexual orientation. I suggest that Reverend Stanley take a step down off his soapbox and take a quick reading of the part of the Constitution which stresses the separation of church and state. Then I would suggest that he open his Bible to 1 John 4:20 where St. Paul writes "If anyone says 'I love God,' yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen." This bill that the Senate is debating is a plain and simple measure of equality. And if they pass it tonight, I will personally go down to the Senate chamber and sign it right then and there." The President's rebar spine held him upright in the mould of the great men who had held the post before him. "Thank you, that's all." He stepped down from behind the podium and headed off back toward the Oval.

Stacy took over the briefing. The President never was an easy act to follow.

2256 ZULU

ST. ANDREW'S PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH

CRYSTAL CITY, VIRGINIA

Mikey Roberts practically had to drag Sergei here. He was convinced that Sergei needed to talk to someone about his problems with Anna, and really no one would be better at helping him through that then would Anna's sister Beverly. Beverly Chegwidden was a Presbyterian Minister and the kind of person who was basically a psychiatrist and a minister wrapped into one. She did counselling which was helpful, she did couples counselling but the powers that be weren't ready to make that an option for Sergei and Anna yet.

"I don't understand why I have to talk to a counsellor." Sergei whined as they walked over the crimson carpet toward the Reverend's office. Mikey tapped on the heavy wooden door.

"Because if you don't, your CO is going to bust your balls, so no matter how unpleasant this may be, I imagine that would be worse." Mikey reminded him. Reverend Chegwidden came to the door and opened it.

"Sergei, nice to see you again." Beverly nodded at the young man. "You too, Michael."

"You can just call me Mikey, ma'am, most people do." Mikey grinned. Beverly Chegwidden might have been the wife of the Secretary of Defence but she was just about as close to June Cleaver as any woman could be in the modern day. Sergei walked into the office passed the Reverend Chegwidden who still stood at the door. "Good luck, ma'am. I think you'll need it."

"As St. Paul said, Michael, 'if God is with us who can be against us?'" She smiled at the younger man and closed the office door. She turned back to face her desk and walked back across the room. "Sergei, I don't want you to loathe our sessions together, I want you to see this as a place where you can come and talk about what's honestly bothering you and I hope that I can help you work through it."

"What's honestly bothering me, Reverend is that I have to come here at all." Sergei started. "Yeah, I got drunk one night. Yeah, I got in a fight and yeah, the whole thing was incredibly stupid. But it doesn't make me a psych case."

"No, it doesn't but why did you get drunk? Why did you get in a fight?" Beverly took a seat in her chair.

"I suppose I got in a fight because I got drunk, Reverend." Sergei sniped sarcastically.

"I think we both know that it's not that simple, Sergei." She reminded him. "Almost a year ago, your fiancée died, is that right?"

"Yes." Sergei nodded. "She was killed by a suicide bomber in Israel."

"I'm sorry." Beverly paused. "Were you there?"

"Yeah," Sergei nodded. "She, uh, she died before the ambulance could even leave the scene."

"Were you angry?" Beverly chanced.

"Of course I was angry!" Sergei almost burst out of his chair. "How the hell do you think I felt, I just watched the woman I love die in front of me for no other reason then the fact that she was Jewish and Israeli."

"Have you talked to anyone about it since it happened?" Beverly shifted the position of her chair.

"My brother, a little but not really. Mikey and Johnny came by one night to talk about it but I, I just couldn't." Sergei huffed.

"Why couldn't you talk to them?" Reverend Chegwidden crossed her legs behind her desk.

"I was," he hung his head, "I was in the bag. I'd gone through about four bottles of vodka in a week."

"Fair to say that it probably doesn't bring out the best in you?" A little bit of that Reverend soft judgemental tone snuck through.

"Probably, it's just that I didn't really have anyone to talk to, I guess, I don't know. Harm's got his kids and his job and none of my friends seemed to want to talk to me." He intertwined his fingers.

"Yet they came to see you." The Reverend pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah they did, didn't they." Sergei grinned slightly. He'd taken the first steps at least, but it was going to be a long row to hoe.

2449 ZULU

THE OVAL OFFICE

WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

No one had their suit jackets on any more. Nate, Gunny and Charlie all had their sleeves rolled up. The Vice President had called the quorum and ended the debate, bringing all the Senators into the Senate chamber for the vote. The tension in the room was dialled up a few notches as every set of eyes was focused on the television. The First Lady had joined them with the kids and Harriet to watch the vote take place. The President wasn't sure that the kids even understood but this was surely going to be one of the defining moments of the first term of his Presidency.

"Think that Senator Bennett is going to vote with us on this one?" Gunny turned to face Charlie, his Deputy Chief of Staff and chief legislative advisor.

"I think he might. I think he wants some allies in the White House if we get re-elected next year and he wants some federal aid for Kentucky." Charlie explained.

"If the young Senator votes with us on this one, I might be so happy that I'll handout money to every person in Louisville." The President added as he rubbed little Jack's head. "Honey, is Tim at the Rabb's again?"

"You can't separate him and Sasha Rabb, it's as if the two of them are attached at the hip." Nicole smiled. "It's kind of cute actually."

"I'm not sure that Admiral Rabb sees it that way, ma'am." Gunny chimed in. "The Vice President is calling the votes from the Republican side of the aisle first."

"We're about to hear forty-one people say the word 'nay', what's so exciting about that?" Kat humoured as she took a bite out of a slice of now cold pizza.

"You think Senator Coles might defect from the Republicans on this one? He's running for President as a moderate and this would still keep him in the good graces of Northern Virginia voters and moderates in the blue states." Gunny turned to the President.

"After the last election, didn't we prove that something like thirty-two states can be 'blue states'?" The President questioned. "He'll vote with his party. He's the ranking member of Armed Services, he almost has to."

"I can't believe that we're going to see nine Democrats defect. There are going to be headlines in the Post and the Times tomorrow that we couldn't even control our own caucus, the pundits are going to have a field day." Morley stressed as he paced around in the office.

"Only if you use the word 'caucus', then Jon Stewart will have a field day." Gunny joked. "Alright, they're calling for the nays on the Democratic side of the aisle."

"Which means we're about to hear from a few of our southern and plains state Senators who think I'm trying to let the gays run the government." The President rolled his eyes and looked down at his son. "Don't use that word."

"What, government?" The child said with a smile at his father.

"You sure you didn't raise a Republican, sir?" Gunny chuckled and reached for his Pepsi on the coffee table. The votes were in on the nay side, there were fifty. A cheer rose from the group.

"Hold up, hold up, hold up!" Charlie cautioned. "Bennett could still abstain from voting, in which case, we still lose."

"The Vice President has unrolled his sleeping bag in there; he won't let Bennett leave without voting." Stacy reminded her co-worker. The Vice President began the aye votes and the White House senior staff that was gathered in the Oval Office began begging some mercy from the heavens. They watched C-SPAN rack up the white numbers in the Aye column. Everyone was hanging their head, afraid to look at the screen and preferring to just listen to the commentary. "They're going to call Bennett last, he has the least seniority of any Democrat in the Senate." Stacy reminded them.

"Shhh." Gunny hushed her playfully.

"Senator Knowles of Iowa!" The Vice President called out on the TV and Senator Knowles registered his vote in the affirmative column. All the air seemed to be sucked out of the room, they knew that Bennett was the next up. "Senator Bennett of Kentucky!" The Vice President called and all eyes drifted back up to the television screen. They watched as the amount of votes in the affirmative went from 49 to 50 and tied the vote in the Senate.

The room erupted with shouting and fist pumping. Gunny and Charlie high-fived each other, the First Lady kissed the President in a mock up of the picture of the sailor and the nurse in Times Square on V-J Day, Morley was pumping his fists like engine pistons and Stacy leapt into Gunny's arms for a quick hug. He lifted her into the air before slowly lowering her back to the floor. "We won." He whispered to her, a grin quickly spreading across his face, his arms still wrapped around her.

"Yeah, we did." She was blushing and trying to avoid his gaze. Lest he realize how much she was enjoying this. The President grabbed his jacket from the back of the couch and put it on. As he did this, the Vice President cast the deciding vote to pass the bill on C-SPAN.

"Come on, you three." The President pointed to Gunny, Stacy and Charlie. "I said I was going to sign that bill on the floor of the Senate tonight, and that's what I'm going to do." He tossed their jackets to them as the three of them headed to the door of the office.

"They're going to write about tonight in history books, sir." Gunny cheered as the door to the office closed behind them.

0120 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm came strolling into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around his wife who was standing in front of the sink. "You getting ready to head back to class next month, Professor?" He whispered in her ear. She nodded and leaned back to kiss him on the cheek.

"How're things at work?" Mac whispered. "Did Tom Boone throw a fit over the Senate vote?"

"I think Secretary Chegwidden made him leave the building before the results were announced." Harm smiled and opened his fingers over her stomach. "Where are the kids?"

"Tommy is with Frank at a Capitals game in the city, Matt is asleep in the cradle." She pointed to the place five feet behind her where she had set up the cradle in the kitchen. "Sasha is out in the backyard building a snowman with Tim Ross."

"He's here again?" Harm sounded astounded.

"Harm." Mac gave him a warning tone.

"I know, I know, it's cute." He chuckled and kissed the sweet spot behind her ear.

"That's right, it's good for Sasha to have a friend." She nodded, trying to ward off the want to just let her husband's ministrations take over. "Besides, you should see the two of them help each other with their homework. Besides, she might have a little crush on him."

"I don't approve of that." Harm said in a mock serious tone.

"Harm, she's going to be turning nine next year." Mac reminded her husband.

"I don't approve of that either." Harm chortled. Mac giggled a little and headed over to the screen door that lead from the kitchen to the backyard.

"Kids! Hot chocolate!" Mac called and two small figures wrapped tight in snowsuits came trudging toward the house from the backyard. When they got there, they kicked off their boots and Tim flipped off his hood. The kid fired off a salute at Harm. "Admiral Rabb."

"Marine." Harm was slightly amused by the respect that the eight year old was able to show even at his age.

"Mom, you have to come out and see our snowman later, it's really cool. He looks just like Frosty!" Sasha was really excited, she reached over and gave Tim a big hug. The eight year old boy tried his best not to look annoyed with his best friend. A battle that he was obviously losing if Harm's quiet chuckles were anything to go by.

"Okay, Sasha, maybe later alright?" Mac hunched over and rubbed the top of her daughter's head. The little Rabb walked over and took a seat at the table, taking Tim Ross with her.

"Dad, you should have seen Tim, he gave me a boost on to his shoulders so we could put the head on the snowman, it was really cool." Sasha's eyes lit up as she blew on the surface of her hot chocolate.

"Mac, he's impressing our daughter with his strength at eight years old." Harm whispered in his wife's ear.

"Is that a grey hair?" Mac pointed to his temple and Harm immediately pulled a spoon out of the drawer to check. This caused Mac to giggle a little as she took a seat at the table with her daughter. "How was school today, guys?"

"Lots of fun, we won a game of dodge ball. Jack, Brad, Arleigh, Tim and me, we took the other team to town." Sasha was beaming a smile.

"Sasha's a really good athlete, and she's better at Math then I am." Tim Ross smiled quickly as he took a sip. "This is really good cocoa, Mrs. Rabb."

"Thank you, Tim." Mac chuckled lightly, this kid was too polite for his own good. Mac's attention was diverted to something that was coming in over the radio, she turned toward her husband. "Harm, could you turn up the radio, please?"

0155 ZULU

US CAPITOL BUILDING

WASHINGTON, DC

The President's motorcade pulled up to the Capitol and the President got out of the car along with Gunny, Stacy, Charlie and the Secret Service detail. This was a great day, or evening rather. It felt like campaign season was kicking off. The President and his entourage began to walk up the steps of the Capitol as the Vice President, President Pro Tempore of the Senate, Senate Majority Leader and Speaker of the House began walking down the steps to meet them.

This was the 'Pennsylvania Avenue Street Gang' as Time Magazine had dubbed them three years earlier. The group of Democrats that was capable of pushing through legislation that the caucus agreed on. Time Magazine had never touched on the fact that between them, there were often policy disagreements and there had been policies passed that the White House didn't entirely agree with or that some Democratic Senators weren't entirely pleased with but compromises were ultimately reached.

Crowds had gathered on the Capitol steps behind police barricades. On one side was a cheering crowd that had come to thank and cheer on the President and congressional Democratic leaders for passing the bill. On the other side was a group of Evangelicals that Reverend Stanley had likely collected from Virginia for a protest today and brought to the Capitol right now. Nonetheless, the President was signing autographs, shaking hands and waving to people as he made his way up the steps.

The Secret Service was trying to push him along and get things moving. It was slightly below thirty degrees Fahrenheit and they didn't want people getting sick because they weren't wearing coats. Gunny and Stacy walked a step behind the President grinning the whole way and trying hard not to cast longing glances at one another. Halfway up the steps, they were met by the congressional delegation. "Mr. President." Senate Majority Leader Ed McLaren reached out and shook the President's hand. "I believe that we've got a bill for you to sign." The old Missouri Democrat was smiling as he said it.

"I believe you do, Ed." Nate chuckled. The senior members of White House staff and congressional Democratic leaders posed for a quick photo op. That's when all hell broke loose. Someone in the crowd shouted 'gun' and there was screaming and a few loud popping sounds that indicated that shots had been fired and then for seconds after that, the only sound that could be heard were the sounds of Pete Simpson, Chief of the President's Secret Service detail calling in.

"Shots fired. Repeat, shots fired."


	35. The Crash of Guns

_Guest Starring: Paul Newman as Senator Ed McLaren (D-MO)_

_Craig T. Nelson as Speaker Sam Jordan (D-TX)_

"Shots fired. Repeat, shots fired!" Pete called in after guarding the President from the shots. The President was still a Marine and a few steps faster then a lot of guys his age would have been. He pulled a gun out of the back of Pete's belt and turned it on the supposed shooter, getting a tap shot off into his shoulder. The shot sent the man to the ground. "Sir, that was a very dangerous thing to do." The Agent warned.

"Sorry, Marine, instinct." Nate replied as he handed Pete the gun.

"Are you hurt, sir?" Pete asked. Nate quickly scanned himself and shook his head to state the negative.

"Gunny!" Nate heard Stacy shout and he went bounding across the Capitol steps and knelt by the side of his Chief of Staff. Ambulances were on the way, the Secret Service had called it in. Gunny had been hit twice, once in the gut and again in the chest.

"I'm hurt, boss. I'm hurt real bad." Gunny coughed.

"Hang in there, you're going to get through this." Nate took Stacy's hand put them on the wounds. "Keep pressure on them. And talk to him." Nate instructed her.

"Nate, we got problems over here!" Speaker Sam Jordan called and Nate got back to his feet and bounded across the Capitol steps toward where the Speaker and two Senior Democratic Senators were crouched next to the Vice President. Nate came over and crouched with them. "Sorry, Mr. President, I didn't mean to…"

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Sam, other things are more important right now." Nate shot tersely. The Vice President had been shot twice, too. His chest wound was far more critical then Gunny's but the other bullet had hit him in the shoulder. The President took of his tie and applied a tourniquet over the shoulder wound. "He's lost a lot of blood. Are you three okay?" Nate looked up at the Senator McLaren, Speaker Jordan and Senator Paulson.

"Aside from getting quite a start and a spike in my blood pressure, I'm okay." Senator Paulson answered.

"I think that goes for me too." Senator McLaren followed up.

"A few scrapes and bruises but I'm okay." The Speaker nodded. The ambulances pulled up and the paramedics brought up the gurneys.

"Stacy! Go with Gunny, I'll go with the Vice President!" Nate shouted and Stacy nodded. He knew that that there wasn't a force on this earth that would have kept her out of that ambulance.

"We'll see you at the Hospital." Senator McLaren motioned as he and the Speaker collected themselves. Nate piled into the ambulance with the Vice President. All he could think was that this was the fourth time in his life that somebody had shot at him, there had to be something about him that made people want to pick up a gun. That was probably a bad trait to have while being the President of the United States. He sat there, watching the unconscious Vice President of the United States lying on a gurney with two bullets in his body.

"How bad does it look?" Nate rubbed his eyes and looked up at the older paramedic.

"It's bad, sir. It's really bad." The paramedic answered. They had the ambu bag out and they were ventilating the Vice President. Nate hearkened back to the time four years earlier when he had walked into Senator Wes Grier's office and asked him to be his Vice President. _He would have been better off if I'd just let him be_, Nate lamented, unable to tear his eyes off the medical treatment that they were giving him. He felt like Jimmy Stewart in _It's a Wonderful Life_ in that scene where he's sitting at the bar and he starts to pray. Nate closed his eyes, intertwined his fingers and began to beg the heavens for mercy.

0229 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

The news came in over the radio and Harm and Mac could barely believe their ears. They immediately began to do what any parent would do. They gathered up the kids and herded them out to the car with Tim's Secret Service detail following them all the way out there. Harm fired up the minivan – something of an oxymoron he would admit – and pulled out on to the road, headed for the beltway. "Where are we going?" Tommy asked from the backseat where he was seated next to his sister and Tim Ross. Before leaving the house, Harm had talked to Trish and Frank about taking care of Matt for a couple hours. He felt bad about it, especially since Matt was so young, but this wasn't just an emergency, it was a national emergency, exceptions had to be made.

"We're taking Tim back to see his parents." Mac told her son. The police presence on major routes in and out of the city became like a fortress. Harm's slightly erratic driving patterns aside, they were making decent time getting into the city. At every police checkpoint, one of the Secret Service Agents flashed their badge and the cops waved them through. Mac was up there reminding him of the fastest way to get to George Washington University Hospital.

By the time that they had crossed into D.C., they had a police escort that was guiding them toward the hospital. The sight of a Chevrolet minivan being guided through D.C. by the police must have been one to remember for bystanders who happened to see it. The silence in the car wasn't effectual, it was like white noise, a day when everything just kind of slowed down and you didn't know what really happened. Harm likened it to target fixation. Speculation at the scene was rampant about who had been hit but no one could confirm anything and that was making everyone very nervous.

"Admiral, what's going on?" Tim Ross asked from the backseat.

"Nothing, we're just taking you to see your parents." _Or at least your mom_, Harm added silently.

"The radio said something about the President, is my dad okay?" Tim pressed, it was likely the curious nature of being young. Tim Ross had always been close to his dad, well, all the boys were close to their dad. But Jack and Brad were close to Nate in the sports kind of way whereas Tim and his father shared a similar kind of quiet intellect.

Harm didn't know how to answer the question. He couldn't lie to the kid because if he was wrong, then not only Tim but Sasha would likely be pissed at him for a while. Telling Tim the truth wouldn't likely be helpful either but he didn't know what the right thing to do was. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Tim was getting kind of riled up. Luckily, the Agents that were with them intervened.

"Tim, I just talked to my superiors, your dad's okay." One of the agents put her hand on the boy's shoulder and Tim nodded.

"Sorry, Admiral." The polite and quiet young boy quickly returned.

"No problem, slugger." Harm replied with a smile. Tim Ross was a good kid. Of the three Ross triplets he was the runt of the litter. Jack and Brad were tall for their age and the popular outspoken kids, they had fair complexions and lighter brown hair. Tim was smaller, quieter, more cerebral and his skin was olive shaded, his hair darker then his brothers'.

The minivan pulled up in front of the hospital and everyone piled out toward the emergency room, well, everyone but Harm who had to go park the car. The doors slid to either side as Mac guided the kids inside. Tim saw his dad sitting there and he rushed over to him. Nate got up from the chair and caught his son, lifting him into the air. "Dad, you're covered in blood."

"It's not mine, don't worry about it, kiddo." Nate tried to smile and he almost succeeded.

"Who got hit?" Mac inquired looking really nervous.

"The Vice President…" Nate answered quickly and swallowed the knot that formed in his throat soon after. "And, uh……Gunny."

Mac felt like she'd just been whacked over the head with a bag of hammers. Gunny was invincible, or he was supposed to be. "Is he okay?" She ventured.

"I honestly don't know, Mac. He was hit in the chest and the gut, he was bleeding pretty bad." Nate nodded slowly. Mac didn't understand why it was so damn hard for men to cry, she could tell that Nate wanted to but likely wouldn't. "Thanks for having him over again." Nate flicked his son's shoulder.

"Not a problem." Mac grinned weakly. "You guys are going to have to have Sasha over one time soon."

"We'd be delighted." Nate grinned genuinely, likely for the first time all night. At that moment, Harm came rushing through the door behind them.

"Mr. President." Harm nodded. It was times like this that he hated titles. This was his friend Nate, who'd just been shot at no less but he was the President so those formalities just rolled off the tongue so easily. "Jesus, you're covered in blood."

"Not mine." Nate replied quickly. "The Vice President and Gunny were the ones who got hit."

"Jesus." Harm breathed out as they all moved into the main ER area.

"The Vice President's in worse shape then Gunny is but both of them are pretty bad." Nate informed them.

"And you took down the shooter." Nicole, unlike her husband, had actually shed a few tears.

"You did?" Harm raised his eyebrows out of surprise.

"Just instinct. I knew my security chief carried a gun in the back of his belt and when the shots were being fired, I ducked behind him, grabbed the gun and put a slug in the perp's shoulder." Nate shook his head. "The whole thing just happened so damn fast."

"Apparently, if you beat your agents off the draw." Mac added.

"Not fast enough, the guy got four shots off." Nate looked down at the cold tile floor. Nicole put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't think like that." She whispered in his ear.

"She's right, you're alive and so are a lot of other people. That's going to mean something to a lot of people tonight." Harm reminded his friend.

"Yeah, well, right now, two of my closest friends are in surgery, so it doesn't mean a whole lot to me." Nate replied and walked over to speak with Senator McLaren and Speaker Jordan who were sitting with the Vice President's wife on the other side of the emergency room.

"Why does he do that?" Mac asked. "He just closes right up like a clam."

"There's and old JFK quote, I think I can remember it: "Now the trumpet summons us again- not as a call bear arms, though arms we need-not as a call to battle, though embattled we are- but a call to bear the burden of a long twilight struggle, year in and year out, rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation". I think he feels that as President, he needs to save everyone. If he can't do that, why save anyone?" She shook her head. "It doesn't make any sense, I know, but I've been married to him for nine and a half years and I knew him for a decade before that, this is how he thinks."

"Can't be healthy." Harm replied as he took a seat in the ER. "How's Gunny, any news?"

"Nothing since they wheeled him into OR. I'm hearing what everyone else is hearing. Gunny's hurt bad but the Vice President is worse off." Nicole sat with Harm, Mac and the kids as the commotion of the ER happened around them

------------------------------------------

Charlie walked over to Stacy with a cup of coffee fresh out of the cafeteria machine. "He'll be okay." Charlie was obviously shaken. "He's done tours in Serbia, Kuwait and Afghanistan, he's tough."

"He got shot in the chest, Charlie." Stacy wiped her eyes. "I don't care how tough anyone is, getting shot in the chest is the great equalizer." She took the cup that he offered. "We were three feet from him when the bullets started flying, how can you not be scared?"

"I _am_ scared. Like you said, we were mere feet away from him when guns started going off. This is going to be a long night; you should try to get some sleep." Charlie suggested. "We're going to be here all night."

"Yeah, well, in a few minutes I'm going to have to address the press on what happened and give them any information that we might have. I can only imagine the rampant speculation that must be going on about who's hurt and where and how severe." She ran her hand through her hair in an attempt to style it. Morley came down and sat next to them. "You were right." She told him.

"How's that?" Morley asked, sliding the canteen back into the inside pocket of his jacket.

"What the hell kind of gun culture have we created in this country if the President can't go from the White House to the Capitol Building without someone taking a shot at him?" She complained. "I'm starting to think that we should start talking to police departments to see what kind of gun control measures would help them do their job."

"I don't think this is the time to think about that, as much I'm glad I could sway another person." Morley carried something of a sombre grin. "When do you think we'll know something?"

"I don't know much about combat surgery, which is what removing a bullet is. Only a few people in this room would know anything about what that's like." Charlie looked around. "You could try the President but he's talking to Senator McLaren and Speaker Jordan. I'd suggest talking to Admiral Rabb or his wife, they both might have some experience to impart."

Morley walked over to Harm and tapped on his shoulder. "Admiral, I'm Derek Morley, the White House Director of Communications."

"I know who you are; we met a few years ago." Harm nodded. "What can I do for you?"

"I was just wondering, I don't mean to generalize because you're in the military but I was just wondering if you had any experience with how long surgery to repair bullet wounds normally takes?" Morley chanced.

"Not a lot, I imagine that if the wounds are severe enough, it could take a couple hours. From what I've heard, the Vice President's one wound was superficial but the other one was very severe, so you might get news on him before Gunny." Harm answered with a long blink.

"Thank you, Admiral." Morley nodded small and slow before heading back over to Charlie and Stacy. "He says it could be a few hours, we aren't likely to know until the early morning hours. We may have to run the White House out of here today."

"Who's the Chief of Staff with Gunny in the OR?" Stacy asked.

"No idea. I think it's up to the President on this one." Charlie leaned forward in his chair. "What the hell are we going to tell the press?"

"The truth, we can't lie to them, I think that's a felony." Morley replied. "I'm just not sure who we send out there. Whether it should be you or the President." Morley turned to Stacy.

"I think the nation needs to see the President. If we don't put him out there until morning, the stock market is going to take a massive hit, the Nikkei is already down more then a hundred points and a Frankfurt opens in a few hours." Stacy answered. "I think we have to get the President out there soon or we're going to have worldwide economic panic once Frankfurt opens."

"You know what sucks the most about this job?" Charlie sighed as he leaned back in the chair.

"No, what?" Stacy asked.

"You don't even get to act like a human being when a tragedy occurs. You have to worry about what the hell the impact is going to be on the Congress, on the country on the world." Charlie got up to walk to the cafeteria for something to eat.

-------------------------------------------

The President stood with the Senate Majority Leader and the Speaker of the House in a corner of the Emergency Room. "Any precedent for what the hell we do now?" The President asked, looking back and forth at the two experienced congressional Democratic leaders.

"Well, Wes lost a lot of blood, even if he lives through this, he likely won't be up to code to fulfill his role as Vice President." The Speaker said. "I've known Wes Grier for almost twenty years and it sucks, but constitutionally if the Vice President cannot fulfill his obligations, then it goes to the President to nominate a new Vice President."

"Until then, the Senate President Pro Tempore sits in the Vice President's role in the Senate and the Speaker of the House is the next in the constitutional line of succession." Senator McLaren intervened.

"We don't go out there and talk to the press until we hear something from the doctors." Nate decided.

"That's not an option, the Nikkei is sliding downward and Frankfurt will crash like a lead balloon in a couple of hours, you've go out there and tell the press exactly what happened and square the story away otherwise, they're going to plotz." Speaker Jordan advised.

"Fine, yeah, just let me talk to Secret Service about what happened at the scene. I'll make a statement and tell them what the Secret Service tells me and then I'll tell them that we'll keep them up to date on what happens after that. The doctors will brief in the morning, probably live on American Morning, the Today Show and Good Morning America before the markets open." Nate raised a hand to his chin.

"When do you think we'll here anything from the doctors?" Senator McLaren pressed.

"It takes a while for this kind of thing depending on the number of slugs, the amount of organ damage, tissue damage, and muscle damage. I've been shot a few times but I don't rightly remember how long it took them to fix me up. I was pretty good about blacking out every time, so, I don't remember how long before I was up and running again." Nate loosened up his collar.

"How many times _have_ you been shot?" The Speaker gently shifted topics.

"Three times, four bullets. Once in Kuwait, twice in a drive-by and once in that terrorist attack on the State Department back during President Russell's first term." Nate answered. "It doesn't hurt any less no matter how many times it happens."

"Is it supposed to?" Senator McLaren mused.

"Sir, I figured you'd want an update on the situation that led to the assassination attempt." Agent Pete Simpson, the head of the President's detail walked over.

"You're damn right I do." Nate nodded.

"One gunman, a former Navy plane captain." Agent Simpson started. "We've got him in custody but there's a jurisdictional dispute."

"Between who?" Nate furrowed his brow.

"Secret Service, Capitol Police and NCIS." Pete answered. "Normally the AG would make this decision or the U.S. Attorney but…"

"To hell with the U.S. Attorney and the AG is out of the country." Nate spat. "Why does NCIS want jurisdiction? I thought you said that he was a former plane captain."

"Active reserve, he got activated a couple weeks ago to ship out to the Gulf." Pete answered. "Sir, technically you can make a decision on jurisdiction on this one."

"Well, no offence intended, Pete, but no one in the American public is going to trust Secret Service on this one. They're already going to have a hard time not blaming you for failing to protect the Vice President. I don't blame you for it; I'm just saying this is how the system works." Nate gave the agent a pat on the shoulder. "Tell your Director to co-ordinate with Director Shepherd over at NCIS. This is going to be a joint investigation with Secret Service and NCIS, NCIS on lead just so we don't get questioned about impropriety. Have Agent Gibbs and his team over at NCIS down here ready to take depositions at the first available opportunity."

"Yes, sir." The Agent nodded. Behind him, the Vice President's wife came running into the ER and over toward Nate and his cohorts. Sam Jordan wrapped her in a big hug, he'd been a friend longer then had Nate or Ed.

"How is he, Sam?" Daisy Grier asked.

"He's hurt bad." Sam Jordan nodded. "Sorry, you didn't hear anything on the way in."

"They whisked me right off the stage in Philadelphia and brought me right here, no one would tell me anything." She explained.

"I'm sorry, Daisy." Nate hung his head.

"No, Nathan, don't be. You couldn't have known, you couldn't have done anything about it." The older woman put her hand on Nate's forearm. "Just pray."

"I have to, uh, go address the press." Nate pointed away toward the door.

"Be careful, it's a circus out there." She warned as Nate drifted over toward his staff.

"You two, with me." Nate pointed to Charlie and Stacy who followed him toward the front door. Secret Service, not willing to let him out of their sight, closed in a tight perimeter around him as he approached the door. The Press saw him coming and the photos began going off. Nate looked around as he walked through the door and cleared his throat. "Earlier tonight, on my way to sign S1105 in the Senate as I promised, shots were fired on the steps of the Capitol Building as you are well aware. Six shots were fired in the exchange." He began to choke up slightly. "Two shots hit Vice President Grier who is currently in surgery for his wounds and another two shots hit my Chief of Staff, Victor Galindez." Nate's eyes watery, a few tears ready to spill but hadn't. "Two shots were fired in response, hitting the assailant in either shoulder, he was apprehended by the Secret Service soon after. In a few hours, the hospital administration will have Dr. Hamilton, the Chief of Thoracic surgery, deliver a press conference on the injuries suffered tonight." Nate cleared his throat again. "I'll take a few questions now."

"Mr. President, you're shirt is covered with blood, are you sure you're okay, sir?" The reporter from MSNBC chimed in.

"Yes, I had my physician check me out. The blood is from attempting to provide some first aid in dealing with the initial attempt. I guess some of the things you learn in the Marines just never leave you." The President remarked before pointing to another reporter.

"Sir, in your lay opinion, could you evaluate the seriousness of the injuries suffered by the Vice President and your Chief of Staff?" The reporter from Fox News inquired.

"I'm not going to speculate on that." Nate answered and pointed to the reporter from ZNN. "I will answer that I'm not going to speculate into an ongoing investigation or about any ongoing medical procedures to which I'm not involved at the moment." Nate felt ad tug on his sleeve by Charlie which told him that they had to re-enter the hospital. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, that's all." They turned and headed back into the hospital. There was a man in scrubs standing out there waiting to address the gathered crowd.

"Mr. President." The doctor nodded and shook Nate's hand. "I just finished operating on Mr. Galindez."

"How is Gunny?" Stacy jumped in. The surgeon grinned at the colloquial nickname.

"The Gunny is going to live. He needed a small bowel resection from the bullet he took to his gut. The bullet in his chest collapsed a lung. We got a chest tube in and the lung re-expanded. However, I should caution that he lost a lot of blood and at this point, we can't assess whether the collapsed lung cut off any oxygen supply to his brain." The doctor paused. "Now, it could be nothing. He's in a coma right now, but there's a good likelihood that he will come out of it. He got something of a nasty concussion from hitting the steps of the Capitol so hard after being shot."

There were general nods of approval around the room. "When can I…we, go visit him, doctor?" Stacy jumped in again.

"In a few minutes, the nurses are moving him into a private room for observation, you'll be able to visit him. Please keep it to one or two people at a time though, in case of an emergency and we need to work on him." The doctor advised and the group nodded. He headed off toward the hospital administration wing and the group settled back in.

"Well, at least we know Gunny's okay." Harm stated as he sunk down into his chair.

"Yeah, but the Vice President's not out of the woods yet." Nate sunk into a chair opposite him. There were a few moments of heavy silence between the two men.

"Hey, Nate you remember that time we glued Mike Bradley to his chair at work?" Harm momentarily forgave his lapse in decorum. The President chuckled.

"I think that was the funniest thing I've ever seen." Nate laughed. "We had to call in the maintenance crew to cut him out of a fifty dollar desk chair."

"I've never seen a man cry over a suit before." Harm was laughing too.

"You laugh, it was Italian silk." Nate added and the two of them continued to laugh for a few more seconds. "Thanks, Harm." Nate nodded at him and got up out of the chair. The boys were curled up with their mom on a couch in the hospital administrator's office. Nate walked up to the dark room and tapped on the door. "Hey." He nodded at his wife who was watching ZNN. They were playing the assassination attempt on a continuous loop. "You shouldn't watch that."

"How can I not? I almost lost you today." She sobbed quietly. "It took nine years for us to end up together. It doesn't seem fair that we'd lose you after only ten more." She stood up and walked over to give her husband a hug. He kissed the top of her head.

"Honey, it's a fact of my life that I've had to accept. People seem to like shooting at me." He tried to add a little levity but she smacked his chest.

"This is not funny, Nathan." She lectured. "You have children now, don't you think about them before you do things like this?"

"Only every other second." He retorted. "Every other second when I'm not thinking about you." He wrapped her tightly in his arms and kissed her cheek. She decided against lecturing him any more. The two of them walked over to the couch and Nate woke up Harry and told him to push over so that the he and Nicole could sit down side by side and be surrounded by their kids. "I count seven." Nate said looking around.

"What?" Nicole looked confused.

"There are seven kids in this room. Don't we just have six?" Nate looked at his wife with a chuckle. She pointed over to the chair where Tim and Sasha Rabb had fallen asleep. "Harm's not going to approve of that." Nate laughed.

"I learned something from watching the footage over and over again." Nicole indicated the TV. "Gunny intentionally got between Stacy and the shooter."

------------------------------------------

Mac decided to take a walk down to see Gunny some time around 0300. She looked through the window into the room to see the figure of the familiar Marine sprawled face up on a bed in a blue polka dot hospital gown and baby blue hospital sheets covering him from the waist down. He was breathing through the help of a respirator, like a precaution because of the collapsed lung. Next to the bed, hunched over and holding his hand was a familiar blonde form. Mac opened the door a crack and tapped on it. "Mind if I come in?" She asked.

"No." Stacy's voice was soft. "Come on in." She wiped her eyes and turned to face Mac.

"I didn't mean to pry, I just wanted to come by and see how he was doing." Mac stood at the foot of his bed.

"No, it's okay. I mean, it must look kind of odd, I've been in here since the doctor told use we could go see him." Stacy tried to chuckle nervously. Mac went to say something but Stacy kept going. "He's just such a good guy, you know?"

"Yeah." Mac nodded. It had been Gunny who had looked out for her on the Guadalcanal after the falling out with Brumby, he was a stand up kind of guy. "Were the two of you close?" There was a loaded question if ever one was asked.

"You work with someone for twelve hours a day or more and you're naturally going to be close to them, I think." Stacy answered, trying to remain noncommittal. "I think Gunny was the first one who didn't see me as just some opportunistic cold hearted bitch feminist."

"That's a pretty harsh indictment of yourself." Mac commented.

"And one shared by half of official Washington until I became the White House Press Secretary." Stacy jibed. "But not Gunny, he was just such a damn nice guy and he gave everyone a fair shake."

"He sure does." Mac grinned. "So, the two of you are close?"

"As close as any two people who work in the White House can be." Stacy knew that answer spoke volumes without saying anything really. She smiled nervously. "It just doesn't seem right that this kind of thing would happen to him."

"It doesn't seem right that this kind of thing would happen at all." Mac replied.

"Yeah, you're right." Stacy nodded. "Yet it does, everyday here in D.C. They can't protect kids walking three blocks from the Capitol from becoming gunshot victims, how can they expect to protect anyone?"

"I don't know." Mac nodded, unsure where the young Press Secretary was going with this. She was likely just lashing out, being that close to something like that would rattle anyone. Mac tried to fight the investigator in her that begged to ask the next question, but Gunny was like her brother and she had a natural protective streak about him. _Just how close were the two of you?_ The words ached to be asked, but Mac was resolved that it was really none of her business.

"Hey, they've got news about the Vice President." Charlie poked his head in the door. Mac and Stacy nodded and left the room. Stacy was reluctant to let go of Gunny's hand or leave him so quickly but she knew that she had to. The crowds in the ER foyer had gathered around Dr. Hamilton who had come out of the OR in his scrubs to talk to them. Mac, Charlie and Stacy came walking down the hallway to join everyone.

"There's no easy way to say this," Dr. Hamilton began, "but at 0324 am, Vice President Wesley Grier died in the Operating Room. The bullet which had struck him in the chest earlier yesterday evening had damaged the heart wall and the aorta. In spite of five hours work by our surgeons to repair the damage and graft on new sections of artery, the damage was too extensive and the Vice President succumbed to his injuries." The Doctor hung his head.

Daisy Grier broke down almost immediately. She was comforted by Senator McLaren and Speaker Jordan, the two men in the room who had known her husband best. The sense that the giant elephant in the room had suddenly left was lost on no one. Nate gave a deep breath and walked up to the doctor. "Thanks, doc. You're going to want to get some rest, you're going to have to explain the medical aspects to a gaggle of reporters around 0700 tomorrow." The doctor nodded at the President and headed off.

"Dear God," Charlie muttered to Morley. "300 days out from the next Presidential election and the sitting Democrat has no Vice President. It's going to be a free for all."

"Kind of an inappropriate time to think of that, don't you think?" Morley asked.

"If you think every Washington columnist hasn't already, you're crazy." Charlie quipped.


	36. The Crash of Guns Pt2

The President sat in the office of the hospital administrator with the White House senior staff. The most sleep that anyone in that room had from the previous night was ninety minutes. Everyone was yawning and rubbing their eyes all through the meeting. "Sir, I think our first priority has to be beginning the vetting process for another Vice President. No offence intended, sir, I know you were close to Vice President Grier but we're three hundred and twenty days out from a Presidential election and for a party that's already known for chaos, we need a little stability."

"Charlie, I appreciate you're my chief political advisor but you need to step back for a second. No one is expecting anything big from us in the next few days. We'll wait until after the funeral before we begin vetting." Nate decided, his stern tone alluding to his feelings on the subject. "Now, on to other matters, we can only run things out of here for today. If Gunny isn't awake by tonight, I'm sorry to say it but we have to get back to running the country. As it is, I can't have everyone here today; I can only keep two of you here." The President looked around the room. He knew that if he tried to send Stacy back to the White House, he'd need to call in Secret Service for back up. "Kat, Charlie, head back to the office." The two of them nodded and headed through the door.

"Morley, why don't you work on some remarks for a press conference?" Nate suggested and Morley nodded, heading off toward the cafeteria. That left him eyeball to eyeball with Stacy. "Don't make me regret letting you stay, get your head in the game." She nodded at him and headed for the door. Dr. Hamilton was live all over the country on all the major networks trying to explain exactly what had happened to the Vice President. Stacy got about halfway out the door before she turned back to face her boss.

"Sir, with Gunny temporarily out, who's in charge of the Executive Office?" She asked.

"Charlie. He's the Deputy Chief of Staff." Nate answered and Stacy closed the door behind her as she left. She headed off for Gunny's room. In the last few hours, she kept a pretty persistent vigil at his bed side

STARSONOURSHOULDERS – STARSONOURSHOULDERS – STARSONOUR

The Government Issue sedan pulled into the parking lot. The NCIS team had visited the crime scene earlier this morning and met their Secret Service counterparts, they hated these damn joint ops, but some things were necessary. As he stepped out the car, Special Agent Gibbs stuck his black NCIS cover on his head over his silver mane of hair.

"Can't believe we're going to meet the President!" Special Agent DiNozzo was grinning from ear to ear.

"DiNozzo, don't make me regret bringing you along." Gibbs groaned as they headed toward the door.

"Sorry, boss, but it's the President. Probie's going to be so jealous." DiNozzo chuckled.

"Do I have to have Officer David handcuff you to the inside of the car, DiNozzo?" Gibbs stopped walking to stare down Tony.

"I'll be good, boss." Tony nodded and they kept on walking toward the hospital. The place was crawling with Secret Service and politicians. Gibbs was sure that he'd get a similar feeling to the one he had right now only if he were ankle deep in crap. They walked through the sea of black and blue suits only to see the President make his way toward them in a white dress shirt. He had a new blue tie on; the story was all over TV about how he'd used the old one to tie a tourniquet around the Vice President's shoulder in order to slow the blood loss. "Agent Gibbs." The President nodded and reached out to shake the hand of the NCIS Agent.

"Mr. President." Gibbs nodded. "My team, Agent DiNozzo," Gibbs nodded toward Tony, the President nodded at the Agent, "and Officer David." The second Gibbs introduced Ziva to the President; the two of them began babbling back and forth in Hebrew, much to the confusion of the two other NCIS agents.

"What are they saying, boss?" Tony whispered to Gibbs.

"Do I _look_ like I speak Hebrew, Agent DiNozzo?" Gibbs turned to give Tony a stern glare.

"No, boss." Tony readied himself for the familiar sound of Gibbs smacking him upside the head. He heard Ziva chuckle and turned his head to inspect what happened, he picked the wrong second to do that and Gibbs ended up smacking him in the side of the head. "Ouch, boss!"

"Don't turn your head then, DiNozzo." Gibbs lectured. "What were you two talking about?"

"Oh, it was just an old joke I haven't heard since I was back in Israel, Gibbs." Ziva answered.

"Right," Gibbs rolled his eyes and nodded, "Mr. President, what can you tell us about what happened yesterday?"

"Not much, I said at a press conference earlier in the day that I would sign the bill in the Senate chamber, I was on my way to do that. A few of us gathered on the steps of the Capitol for a photo op and that's when the shots started going of." The President shrugged his shoulders, unable to find anything else to add. He thought for a second before continuing. "I remembered that the chief of my security detail carries a gun in the back of his belt. I ducked around behind him and took the gun and fired once at the assailant. I caught him in the shoulder."

"_You_ fired at him?" DiNozzo looked surprised.

"Marine instinct." The President replied.

"Never dies. Earlier, you said 'a few of us?' Who else was with you?" Gibbs asked.

"Senator Ed McLaren and Senator Mills Paulson, you'll find them in the Hart Senate Office Building; Speaker Sam Jordan, you'll find him in the Rayburn House Office Building; there was Charlie Scott, he's my Deputy Chief of Staff, he's at the White House today; Stacy Anderson, the White House Press Secretary and Victor Galindez, White House Chief of Staff were both there, they're in Room 204, here." The President concluded.

"Thank you, Mr. President." Gibbs nodded.

"Get to the bottom of this, Gunnery Serg – I mean, Agent Gibbs." The President nodded. Gibbs, DiNozzo and Ziva headed for Room 204.

"Is it me or did the President almost address you as Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs?" Tony asked as they navigated the halls.

"He did." Gibbs nodded.

"Why's that boss?" Tony pressed.

"Because the President and I served together in Panama." The NCIS team turned down the hall toward Room 204. They got to the door and Gibbs knocked on the outside.

"Come in!" Stacy called from inside.

"You would be Stacy Anderson?" Gibbs asked. "I'm Agent Gibbs, NCIS. This is Agent DiNozzo and Officer David." Stacy shook each of their hands. "We need to ask you about what happened on the evening of the shooting."

"I don't know what I can tell you. We got out of the car; Secret Service was keeping a pretty wide perimeter on the Boss. I guess they figured with the Capitol Police, they didn't have to be stepping on his heels. Anyway, there was a bunch of us: Charlie, Gunny, Senators McLaren and Paulson, Speaker Jordan and the President and they were going to take a photo and then the guns started firing…" Stacy trailed off.

"Do you remember anything else?" Gibbs pressed.

"No, I, uh, I didn't see the shooter." Stacy looked slightly confused.

"Are you alright, Miss Anderson? Do you need to sit down?" DiNozzo suggested.

"No, no, I just realized why I didn't see the guy." Stacy seemed focused. "Gunny got between me and the shooter." She cast a cursory glance at the bed where the stoic, middle aged form of Victor Galindez still lay, breathing with the help of a respirator.

"Sounds like he might have saved your life." Ziva noted.

"Yeah." Stacy's eyes immediately began to well up again.

"If you remember anything else, let us know." Gibbs told her before leaving the room. The NCIS team exited the room and walked through the halls of the hospital in silence.

"I think the Press Secretary's sleeping with the Chief of Staff." DiNozzo mused as they got out into the parking lot.

"That's because you know nothing about women, Tony." Ziva mused. "They're not sleeping together. If they were, she would have been less surprised that he took a bullet for her. Grateful and certainly appreciative, but not as surprised. Besides, she was afraid that we would catch her looking at him."

"There's also the fact that they're not allowed to, Officer David. White House protocol." Gibbs got in behind the wheel.

"Rules never stopped anyone before, boss." Tony added, emphasizing his gnawing on the gum that was in his mouth.

"How many cases have we had where the couples' sex life would have made national news, DiNozzo?" Gibbs retorted.

1556 ZULU

OPNAVS OFFICE – PENTAGON

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm sat in his office pouring over the latest force readiness assessment from southern command. He always through himself into work after something that was mildly traumatic, and losing the Vice President was traumatic for 300 million Americans nationwide. Bax was in meetings in the Situation Room all day, big events like this tended to have a ripple effect on the global political scale of peace and security. He tossed down the blue folder and called for his yeoman through the intercom.

He rubbed his eyes hard. Tommy had gotten sick and now the bug seemed to be circulating through the house. They were tempted to shackle him down in the basement so that the baby wouldn't get sick. He and Mac were dissuaded from this when Trish pointed out that it would just be easier to convince Tommy to camp out in the living room. The large door to his office was pushed open and the familiar smell and unpleasant smell of this homeopathic tea that Mac had made him bring, wafted into the air. "Thank you, Pett-" Harm stopped when he looked up to see the familiar form of Secretary AJ Chegwidden. "Mr. Secretary, I'd get up but…"

"No need to explain; Arleigh had the same thing last week and so did I, thankfully I'm over it now." AJ took a seat. "What the hell is Mac making you drink? This stuff smells like Canadian Moose Piss!"

"As opposed to the pleasant smell of _American_ Moose Piss?" Harm joked. "What's on your mind."

"Just came by to shoot the shit." AJ answered.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the Situation Room all day?" Harm looked confused.

"No, just the National Security Advisor, CIA Director, Generals and the Admirals. Cabinet is excused." He shifted to get more comfortable in the stiff leather chair. "How'd the Gunny look?"

"In rough shape." Harm answered. "He'll live, the doctor's worried about him maybe having brain damage if he's out too long."

"Not to mention the outright pain of having a bullet collapse a lung and necessitate a bowel resection. I bet they stick him with some weird diet for a few weeks." AJ chuckled slightly.

"No alcohol." Harm reminded him.

"Working at the White House? That alone might kill him." The two men chuckled at the joke. "Heard anything yet?"

"About what?" Harm raised a curious eyebrow.

"The Vice Presidency." AJ cut to gist. "I've read a few online articles on it already. New York Times, Washington Post, Time, Newsweek, ZNN, MSNBC, CBS, everyone has a take."

"I heard it was going to be you." Harm looked down at the desk.

"That's because you work at the Pentagon." AJ chortled. "I'm too old and I'm the President's brother-in-law, it wouldn't look right. Anyway, I like the job I have now. I thought it might be you."

"President's not going to pick a Republican Vice President." Harm chimed in.

"You're a Republican?" AJ didn't look surprised, just slightly amused.

"Registered Independent, but I vote Republican most of the time. I'm certainly well right of where the President is on a lot of issues." Harm answered. "He and I agree on a lot of foreign policy stuff, actually all foreign policy and some economic policy but we differ on a lot of social issues."

"So do you and Mac but you married her." AJ pointed out. "Running as someone's Vice President has got to be easier then being married to them."

"I just don't think I'd want to do it. I've been able to serve the Navy for thirty years almost and remain apolitical, I just don't have the stomach for it." Harm admitted honestly. "Too many compromises."

"Once again, you're married, Harm. Compromise is the name of the game." AJ reminded him. "Think about it, in four years, both parties would be clamouring to have you run for President. If you do it, just promise me one thing?"

"What's that?" Harm was slightly amused.

"Don't name Keeter as your Vice President, I don't think America could survive that." AJ laughed.

1748 ZULU

NCIS HEADQUARTERS

WASHINGTON NAVY YARD

"What've we got, Ducky?" Gibbs walked into autopsy.

"Something very interesting, Jethro." Ducky put the X-Rays up. "Here's where the first bullet entered, in the shoulder, it was a through and through shot. But here, here is the kicker." The two men moved over to the table, Ducky lifted the body of the Vice President at the shoulder to show Gibbs. "The exit wound and the entry wound are the same size, Jethro."

"Never seen that before, Duck." Gibbs examined the wound.

"Neither had I." Ducky moved back over to the X-rays. "That's when I re-examined Dr. Hamilton's report. Jethro, the shoulder shot entered from the back, not the front, meaning…"

"Meaning there was more then one shooter." Enlightenment dawned on Gibbs. "That would mean there's one man still running around out there who tried to take a shot at the President." Gibbs took out his cell phone to call Secret Service. "Thanks, Duck."

"Anytime, Jethro. I hope you catch the bastard!" Ducky cheered after his friend. Gibbs waited for someone to pick up on the other end of the line.

"Can I speak to Agent Simpson?" Gibbs inquired; the White House switchboard immediately connected him to the head of the President's Secret Service detail. "Agent Simpson, I just talked to my M.E., there's another shooter out there, you're going to want to tighten the perimeter you keep on the President."

"I don't need you telling me how to do my job, Agent Gibbs." Pete Simpson shot venomously.

"Well, you're following my lead on this investigation, Agent Simpson, since it was your men who fell down on the job last night; I suggest you just do what I tell you!" Gibbs angrily closed the phone when the elevator doors opened. Director Jenny Shepherd was waiting inside the elevator.

"Now, Jethro you have to learn to play well with the Secret Service." She used that light teasing tone that had a tendency to make him smile.

"These guys really dropped the ball, there were two shooters and they had no idea. Hell, I had no idea until I heard Ducky's autopsy analysis." Gibbs sighed. "41 Senators, 191 Congressmen, thousands of staffers and a hundred thousand evangelicals."

"What about them?" The Director asked.

"That's our suspect list." Gibbs answered. "Not the most encouraging investigation but those are the people with the motivation who live within driving distance of the Capitol building and could have gotten there in the time between the President's press conference that afternoon and the time the shots were fired."

"Well, I'm pretty sure the Senators have alibis, Jethro." Jenny reminded him.

"Only for the act, not for conspiracy to commit. The elevator stopped at the level for Abby's lab. "What've we got Abbs?"

"Something very hinky, Gibbs." Abby turned away from her computer to face her boss. "The exit wounds and the entry wounds were the same size. Typically, one wound is larger then the other, but these wounds are the same size."

"Ducky already told me." Gibbs answered. "Must take a pretty unique kind of bullet to create two wounds the same size."

"Only one bullet in the world known to do it." Abby tapped a few keys on her computer.

"That's good news." Gibbs mused.

"It gets better." Abby stopped typing and pointed to her screen. "Congress outlawed the bullet on a rider to the Education Reform Act three years ago."

"Which means that the bullet is illegal. If we find the bullet, we can hold them on a weapons violation and get a search warrant to collect more evidence. Good work, Abbs." Gibbs smiled and headed for the elevator.

"Gibbs?" Abby chanced and Gibbs turned around. "Caf-pow?"

"Bring you two next time, Abby." Gibbs answered as he stepped into the elevator.

2133 ZULU, THE NEXT DAY

GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL

WASHINGTON, DC

Everyone was back at the White House. Today was the second day of national mourning for the Vice President. She'd held three press briefings today and often as not, she would slip out of the White House and come over to the hospital to sit by the bed and read the Post aloud to him. She figured he'd hate to miss out on anything. The Congress was still in Washington, the State Funeral for the Vice President was to be in two days so it made little sense for them to go home. The Senate Armed Services Committee confirmed two new top brass positions.

Harm was no longer a Deputy Chief of Naval Operations; he was the Vice Chief of Naval Operations. A promotion from three to four stars and a little more responsibility but there wasn't going to be a big difference aside from where in the Pentagon his office would be. Sturgis was promoted from Deputy Chief of Naval Operations to Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, making him the second highest ranking African-American Military Officer in American History.

The moves were greeted with general approval by the military community and the Senate. The Republicans were gearing up for the Iowa caucuses that were three weeks away and so, Stacy was reading out of the Washington Post to Gunny and giving him her personal feelings on how each of the candidates were performing. She knew that she had a briefing in the press room in forty-five minutes; she knew that she had to get back to get ready for it but here she was reading a paper to him.

Eventually, when she knew that she absolutely had to get back, she folded up the copy of the Washington Post that had been sitting in her lap and set it on the table next to his bed. She looked down at his face one last time before turning to leave the room. "Morning Sunshine." She heard a familiar voice croak out from the bed. She turned to face him and saw his eyelids still droopy but they were open and he was grinning at her.

"Morning? It's 4:30 pm and you've been asleep for like forty-four hours." She smiled. "It's not morning by any definition." He tried to sit up and he grimaced. The Doctors came through the door to check his vital signs and his pupils. "You were shot in the chest."

"I figured." He winced as they repositioned him as sitting up in the bed. The two of them were silent as Dr. Hamilton finished his examination and explained all the medical facts to them. "When can I go home, doc?" Gunny asked.

"I'd like to keep you for about a week to ten days for observation. Based on your progress, after that, I'll release you into someone's custody for the following three weeks. Once that period of time is over, you'll be on your own recognizance again." The doctor hung the medical chart on the foot of the bed again. He turned and left the room.

"Listen, I uh, I got to go, there's a briefing." She stammered.

"I know there is." Gunny grinned. "Get out of here and do your job or the President's going to have me kick your butt." He chuckled.

"Nice to know you're feeling better." She smiled at him, her back against the door.

"I'm not sure that I'm feeling better, but I'm definitely awake." Gunny mused as she turned and walked through the door.

1547 ZULU

ARLINGTON NATIONAL CEMETERY

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

The President, the Cabinet, 535 Members of Congress and White House Senior Staff (minus Gunny) stood out in the cold to bury Vice President Grier. A Marine honour guard played the last post and folded the flag. The platoon sergeant handed the flag to the President who walked it over to Mrs. Grier who was sitting amongst her children. "From a grateful nation." The President bent over and handed the flag to Mrs. Grier who nodded solemnly and gave the President a pat on the knuckles.

Overall, it had been a beautiful ceremony at the national cathedral. The President and the Speaker of the House had delivered the eulogies. It was the President, the Speaker, Senate Majority Leader, Senate Majority Whip, House Majority Leader and Vice President's Chief of Staff who acted as the pall bearers on this occasion and carried the casket out of the church to the waiting hearse. The President, in his eulogy had quoted the Psalms of King David: "Weeping endures for a night but joy cometh in the morning."

As the burial ceremony concluded, the bagpipes played in the background and the twenty-one gun salute was delivered by the Marines as was the missing man fly-by. The President walked Mrs. Grier to her car in the motorcade before retreating to his along with his staff. The door closed behind Agent Simpson of the President's Secret Service detail and in a few minutes, the motorcade was moving.

"Sir, I know we've put off talking about this for the last four days out of respect for the Vice President, but I don't think we can put it off any more. We need to start talking about the short list for the new VP spot." Charlie started.

"I'm going to have to agree, sir. We need to at least look like we've started the process because I'm going to get hit with questions about it when I brief the press today." Stacy jumped in.

"The right is going to pressure you to move toward the center, the left is going to want to pair you off with someone who's going to clearly help us along the path we're on now. I think we come out with a strong Vice Presidential nomination, get the entire party behind us and charge into the campaign." Morley interjected.

"You've been noticeably quiet." The President turned to face Kat.

"Well, sir, as the most junior member of staff in the car, I think it might be wise to just keep my mouth shut." Kat answered. "If asked my opinion, I would say that we tell the media that we've begun the process for selecting another Vice President. We're consulting congressional Democrats and the DNC to take a few temperatures and compile a short list."

"We don't need to. I've already got two names, I can't pick between them. So, I'm not sure who I'll ask first." The President was still looking out the window of the limo.

"Sir, can I ask who those two names are?" Charlie ventured, looking for some way to read the President on this one.

"I think I'll keep it under my hat for now." The President answered. "What have we got on tap for today?"

"Well, the NCIS Director is going to give you a briefing on the recent events in the assassination investigation. Then we've got a cabinet meeting and a meeting of the National Security Council before you meet with your new military conferees for a photo op." Charlie answered. In the last few days, he'd been multi-tasking roles as both the President's Chief of Staff and his Chief Political Advisor. As a result, Stacy, Morley and Kat had begun aiding in the second portfolio.

"Sounds like a full day." The President nodded as the motorcade crossed back into the District of Columbia. "I'd like to get up to GWU hospital and see Gunny now that he's awake."

"We can do that, sir, later tonight, probably after hospital visiting hours." Agent Simpson answered. "It would be the easiest time to create a secure perimeter in the building."

The President just nodded.

1841 ZULU

NCIS HEADQUARTERS

WASHINGTON NAVY YARD

"Abby still hasn't come back with the fingerprints?" Ziva asked as she took a seat at her desk.

"Nope." Tony was leaned back in his chair. "Not everyday we get a search warrant from the FISA court."

"It's not everyday that we investigate an assassination attempt on the President, DiNozzo." Gibbs walked into the bullpen. "McGee still trying to flush the suspect's hard drive?"

"Yeah, boss." DiNozzo answered. "I don't get how anyone can be so upset about an issue that they would take a shot at the President though."

"14,000." Gibbs sunk into his chair. "Agent Simpson informs me that that is the number of threats that are mailed, phoned in, emailed or yes, even telegraphed to the White House on a daily basis."

"So, you're saying that there are a lot of crazy people in the world, boss?" Tony asked.

"I'm saying that a lot of Americans care an awful lot about a lot of things and yes, some of them are just crazy enough to take a shot at the President. That's why Secret Service exists in the first place, DiNozzo. That's also why we'd better hope that Abby can lift a few prints so that we have something for the Director when she goes to brief the President in a few hours." Gibbs answered.

"Not good to have the boss looking into us?" DiNozzo quipped.

"Do you find something funny about something taking a shot at the President, DiNozzo?" Gibbs seemed to turn into a Doberman in a second. "That's what I thought."

"Alright, boss, can I just say one thing?" DiNozzo interjected quickly.

"What, DiNozzo?" Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"Gibbs, I have news!" Abby came up out of the elevator.

"It better be something I want to hear, Abby." Gibbs turned away from DiNozzo.

"Gibbs, I got a bunch of prints off of the stuff you brought from the suspect's apartment and McGee lifted a bunch of 'God Hates Fags' stuff off of his computer." Abby answered.

"Enough for a warrant?" Gibbs asked.

"And then some." Abby nodded. "I don't think you'd need to go to FISA on this one, any regular court would give you a warrant."

"Nice work, Abbs." Gibbs reached into his desk and produced two Caf-Pows. "As promised."

"Thank you, Gibbs." Abby took the drinks and raised one straw to her lips.

"DiNozzo, call Secret Service, tell them we've got something. Abby tell me that you traced the fingerprints and the hate info back to something." Gibbs turned toward her.

"A farmhouse outside of Alexandria." Abby answered.

"DiNozzo, tell the Secret Service to get a warrant and meet us out there." Gibbs grabbed his gear. "Let's go."

2434 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

Director Jenny Shepherd grinned as she walked into the outer part of the Oval Office. This was the first time that she had been invited to the Oval in a long time. She sat there twiddling her thumbs looking up between the clock and the Presidential Secretary once every five seconds. Meeting the President was a moment of gravitas that someone didn't usual pass up or take lightly. Surprisingly, the President was only four minutes late for their meeting and when he came through the outer office with his temporary Chief of Staff and the Chief of his security detail.

"Mr. President, your 7:30 meeting is here." The Presidential Secretary answered.

"I know." The President nodded. "Nice to see you, Jenny."

"And you, Mr. President." Director Shepherd answered.

"I hear you're here to tell me the progress that we've made on my would-be assassin." They walked into the Oval together. Director Shepherd took a second to let her mind dance in the wonder that was the Oval. "Jenny?"

"Yes, sir, uh, we tracked the suspect and the weapon back to the 'God Hates Fags' cell outside of Alexandria, Virginia. It was motivated by the Bill that you were about to sign. We have seven people in custody, all of them on conspiracy charges. Two on attempted murder charges and one on a capital murder charge, who, because he was a Naval Reservist, is also up on treason charges." Director Shepherd answered. "All of these top charges are Capital Crimes, you know that?"

"Indeed I do." The President answered solemnly.

"So, I'll hand this over to the United States Attorney for the District of Columbia?" Jenny asked.

"That would seem completely reasonable." The President nodded. "Will that be all?"

"Yeah." The NCIS Director nodded. "I should go now." She turned and left the office.

"You know, three years in this place and you'd think that I would be used to people getting tongue-tied in the Oval Office." Charlie grinned. "You've got your photo op with Admiral Rabb now, sir."

"I just want to talk with him about force readiness assessment in the Persian Gulf. I'm hearing some bad things from Uday Hussein in Iraq and with a democratic and Shiite Iran on their border, there's nothing stopping them from just raiding the borders again like they did in 1980." Nate informed his temporary Chief of Staff. "Bring in the camera in about twenty minutes for the photo op."

"Alright." Charlie and Agent Simpson headed out the door into the Chief of Staff's office and Harm headed into the Oval from the outer office of the Presidential Secretary.

"Harm, nice to see you." Nate shook the hand of his new Vice Chief of Naval Operations. "How are Mac and the kids?"

"Good, sir." Harm smiled. "Your son spends a lot of time over at my house, sir."

"Yeah, my wife said something about that." Nate grinned. "Take a seat, Harm." Nate motioned to the couch.

"I brought the force readiness assessments for Naval Operations in the Persian Gulf." Harm began but the President stopped him.

"I know you did but I don't care, that's what I talked with Admiral Turner about ninety minutes ago. I booked an appointment with you on my very crammed schedule because I had two choices at the top of my list to sit in the Vice President's chair and it was an exact tie. The only reason that I'm talking to you first and not my other choice is because the other one is in Intensive Care." Nate let out a heavy breath. "I trust you read the newspaper, I also trust that you read either Wall Street Journal or the Washington Times or some other conservative newspaper that I couldn't bother to read along with reading the New York Times or the Washington Post because you're an even handed guy. You know that every political consultant in the country is saying that I need to move to the right on a few issues and that a running mate who's to the right of me, in fact one who's a registered Independent would certainly help."

"How did you know I was an Independent?" Harm furrowed his brow.

"I have an entire Justice Department that can tell me these kinds of things, Harm. Not to mention the Democratic National Committee. Finding that out was remarkably easy, it also wasn't the point. I'm asking you to be the Vice President of the United States." Nate stared his friend right in the eye.

"Wow!" Harm looked like he was a deer in the headlights. "I really don't know what to say. How long do I have to think about it?"

"About eighteen minutes and if you turn me down, no one can ever know." Nate was very stern. "I'm very serious."

"Trust me, I know." Harm nodded. "You do realize that I think you're wrong on abortion, gay marriage, the death penalty and…well, actually I think that's about it. Well, that and a few basic tenets of the Republican economic platform."

"Five minutes with my Treasury Secretary and I can almost guarantee that those Republican economic tendencies will go away very quickly." Nate chuckled. "There are also a lot of Democrats who are pro-life or pro-death penalty or anti-gay marriage."

"How many that are all three?" Harm questioned.

"I think two Senators and maybe twelve members of the Blue Dog caucus, all fourteen of whom would welcome your nomination with open arms." Nate answered.

"I do agree with you on pretty much all issues of foreign policy." Harm thought aloud.

"Good to hear." The President answered.

"I'm just not sure that's enough." Harm shook his head.

"Harm, let me tell you something. You have perhaps the highest standard of integrity of any man I know. You have the strength of your convictions and a comprehensive vision for the future and regardless of what goes on inside this room in the next eleven minutes, you have a future in public service and I personally don't care whether you do it as a Democrat or a Republican. What Washington needs more then more members of either party is men of strong moral convictions, men like you. So, if you don't accept my offer, I'm begging you to run for the Senate in three years when the other Virginia Senate Seat is up for grabs or in five when Norm Coles retires." The President stopped.

"Just one question." Harm paused and raised his hand to his chin. "Last year you wanted to put Mac on the Supreme Court. If I were Vice President, would you still be able to put Mac on the Court?"

"It would almost invariably be political suicide, not to mention the potential harm that it might do to Separation of Powers." Nate pursed his lips. "Putting her on the court just wouldn't happen."

"Then, I'm sorry, Mr. President. I can't be your Vice President. I can't take a job that I don't really want and give up my wife's chance to be nominated for a job that she does want." Harm reached over the table and shook Nate's hand.

"Harm, what you just said right there, that's exactly what I was talking about earlier. If you don't put that moral character to good use in this town, Harm, I'll have to kill you." Nate chuckled.

"Mr. President, go with Gunny if he wants it. He's a good man." Harm nodded. "And don't worry, this conversation never leaves this room."

"Thank you, Harm. And by the way, you can tell Mac that we had this conversation." Nate nodded as he shook Harm's hand. "Charlie! Send in the photographer now!" Nate called.


	37. Vice President Who?

The President walked into his bedroom and threw himself down on the bed. It was a week before Christmas, two and a half weeks before the Republicans held their Iowa Caucus. Nate put his head against the pillow. "We have to campaign again." He groaned as he turned to face his wife. Nicole sauntered over to the bed in a pink bra and panty set. "And why do you feel the need to wear that to bed in the middle of winter?"

"For any number of reasons. The first of all is that I just turned forty a couple of months ago and I still need to feel sexy." She kneeled on the edge of the bed.

"Honey, you're the sexiest First Lady in the nation's history." Nate assured his wife. "I'm guessing that there's another reason that you're wearing that, and I mean other then the fact that you're trying to get me amorous and incite me to jump your bones."

She laughed before continuing. "In fact, I have a very good reason. See, when I wear these things to bed, one of two things happens. Either you cuddle up against me, in which case we share the covers and because of body heat are very warm. Or, I get cold, I steal all the covers and because you know that I'm wearing these." She smiled at him.

"Just get in the bed." The President chuckled and shook his head. She crawled in next to him and settled back against his chest. "We have to campaign again."

"I know it's fun." She smiled.

"You only think it's fun because you have an 81 percent approval rating." He reminded her.

"You have a 77 percent approval rating." She reminded him.

"That's only because someone shot at me two weeks ago and the Vice President died." He muttered into her hair. "My staff expects that those numbers could drop to as low as 59 by the time Iowa rolls around."

"Oh, boo-hoo, it would be the first time you were below sixty in four years." She grinned as he snuggled her. "I've been thinking about the campaign."

"Of course you have, you're the master campaigner in the East Wing of the White House, I'm just the President." He smiled against the back of her neck.

"You're funny." She jibed sarcastically.

"I try." He wrapped his arms around her midriff.

"Like I was saying, I've been thinking about the campaign. I think you should do a whistle-stop tour. Talk to Dade County, get the Ferdinand Magellan outfitted and updated to meet modern security and communications standards and do a fifty day whistle-stop tour around the country. You'd have the same motivation that Truman had." She turned in his arms to look at her husband. "Every year, the President gets an invitation to speak at commencement at universities all over the country. You've got an invitation from the University of Texas."

"You want me to speak at the University of Texas, at the beginning of May, and _not_ look like a politician?" He raised an eyebrow.

"You know, we should probably discuss this _after_ you've picked a Vice President." She not so subtly hinted.

"I already asked someone, I was turned down." The President hung his head.

"How many people can say that they turned down the President of the United States?" Nicole wondered aloud.

"Yeah, Harm's on a very short list." Nate replied.

"Harm?" Peach looked annoyed. "You picked a Naval Admiral, one of your closest friends and a Republican to be the Vice President in what is easily the most liberal administration in history?"

"Your point being?" Nate suddenly felt rather small. "You want me to pick Andrea Wallace."

"51 percent of the population of the United States of America is female and yet no woman has ever held high constitutional office. Doesn't that seem strange to you?" She got a little annoyed.

"See, this is why we don't talk about campaign strategy, which we do but you don't think we do enough. According to the latest CNN/Gallup poll, 61 percent of women polled say that a woman candidate would not sway their vote. The reason that this doesn't make a difference to me is because in the last election, I won 63 percent of the women's vote." The President countered.

"I'm running for the Senate." She blurted out.

"Next year? Because I'm pretty sure you're not allowed to do that." The President interjected.

"No, when we get out of here, the 2016 election. I'm going to run." She stated.

"Alright, from what state? New York, Pennsylvania, Maryland or Washington because you've got legitimate claims to all three?" Nate queried.

"Well, Maryland, Washington and New York all have two Democrats in the Senate." She started.

"So, does Pennsylvania." Nate pointed out.

"Yes, but it's a well known fact around Capitol Hill that Senator Keane is retiring in 2016. I want to run and I'd like to know that I have your support when I do." She started.

"Honey, I love you and I support you in all your undertakings because I know that when you and I are in the same room, I'm definitely second place." He kissed her cheek. "So, a whistle-stop to pick up an honorary doctoral from the University of Texas?"

"I think it returns you to your populist base. Your liberal and you're popular; to the Republicans that makes you a target." She felt his hand slide under her the waist of her panties. "And apparently, it makes you frisky."

1344 ZULU

THE WEST WING

THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

"Charlie, we've got a serious problem." Stacy walked into his office without knocking.

"Good morning to you, too." Charlie looked up. "What the hell's the problem?"

"We've had two lists leaked to the press." Stacy stated. "The New York Times has a list of prospective Vice Presidents from the DNC."

"You said 'lists' implying more then one. I'm not going to like the other one, am I?" Charlie asked and Stacy shook her head.

"The Congressional Blue Dogs consulted on a few names with the Pentagon, then leaked their list to the Wall Street Journal." Stacy answered.

"Oh, this is great. They're forcing us to pick someone from one of these two lists by doing this you know that?" Charlie rolled his eyes. "Get the chairman of the DNC and the Chairman of the Congressional Blue Dogs in my office by noon, would you?"

"Because I'm your personal secretary?" Stacy chanced.

"Who was on the list for the DNC?" Charlie chanced as they walked out into the bullpen.

"Gunny, Secretary Proper at Treasury, Secretary Wallace at State, Governor McKinnon of Florida and Senator McLaren of Missouri." Stacy answered.

"We can't pick Senator McLaren because he's more valuable to us in the Senate then he would be in the Vice President's office." Charlie answered. "Who did the Blue Dogs have on their list?"

"Secretary Chegwidden at Defence, Secretary Proper at Treasury, Governor Harder or Ohio, Admiral Turner and Senator Jones of Montana." Stacy recalled from memory.

"We can't pick Chegwidden, he's the President's brother in law. Harder's better at in Ohio, so that we can redistrict next term and Jones is better where he is in the Senate." Charlie answered. "And that's exactly what the President is going to say."

"So, our short list is Gunny, Danny Proper, Andrea Wallace, Sturgis Turner and Nolan McKinnon?" Stacy inquired.

"That's exactly what it is." Charlie nodded. "We're going to see Gunny tonight, you coming?"

"You think I'd miss it, they're releasing him tonight." She answered as she headed into her office.

1728 ZULU

ST. ANDREW'S CHURCH

CRYSTAL CITY, VIRGINIA

"Alright, Sergei, I want to thank you for coming in for this lunch time session before the holidays." Beverly shook the young man's hand as he took a seat in his chair.

"My CO practically insisted that I go." Sergei smiled genuinely.

"I would have thought you'd filled your mandated requirement for sessions." Beverly mused.

"I tried to make that argument too, ma'am." Sergei crossed his feet.

"Didn't wash, huh?" She answered.

"Not in the least, ma'am." He replied.

"Okay, last time you were in, we were talking about your relationship with my sister, I believe we left off at the word 'frustrating'. And while I whole-heartedly concur that she can be frustrating, I want to know why you feel that way." Beverly finally took a seat in her chair.

"She just seems to feel that everything needs to be done her way, on her timetable and that while she seems to believe that she's earned forgiveness for things that she's done wrong but willing to hold everyone else's stupidity against them until hell freezes over. Not to mention that she makes excuses for pretty much everything!" Sergei got out of the chair and began to pace.

"Alright, would you be surprised if I said that other people, including all three of her brothers have made these criticisms in the past?" Beverly suggested.

"No, but what does that have to do with me?" Sergei asked.

"Simple, her brothers spent years voicing these concerns and yet again, she has yet to change, she's not going to change, Sergei." Beverly quipped. "The easiest thing to do here, is to hope that she matures and sees the fault of her ways and reforms."

"She just gets so damn frustrating some times." Sergei admonished.

"And yet you're attracted to her because?" Beverly cut through the guff.

"Can I speak freely?" He ventured.

"Do I look like I'm in the military?" Beverly replied, somewhat sarcastically.

"Well, your sister's blonde, she's brilliant, she's funny, she's got a great body and tits until next week." Sergei answered plainly.

"And if you added a grunt to that you'd sound exactly like a caveman." Beverly answered. "This is generally your problem, you two have had this all consuming attraction to each other for the better part of a decade. There has been no outlet for this attraction and you two have constantly baited each other with other people. She did it to you with Senator Cleary and you did it to her with a Mossad Agent."

"So, she and I argue with each other as a way of providing an outlet for this attraction?" Sergei asked.

"It absolutely is. The two of you need a way of letting out this beast or it's just going to keep consuming you and consuming you." Beverly jumped in. "Anna had a similar problem with Johnny, as you obviously know. When there's an overwhelming and repressed attraction, it seeks an outlet."

"So, you're advocating what?" Sergei asked.

"I'm advocating that the two of you sit down and talk to each other like mature adults because if you don't, the two of you are either just going to shout at each other or the two of you are going to have this spontaneous combustion of sexual energy wherein you just jump in bed." Beverly quipped. "Talk to her."

2455 ZULU

GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL

WASHINGTON, DC

The entire White House senior staff sat in Gunny's room at the hospital, talking with a newly revitalized White House Chief of Staff. On the average day at the White House, the day was chaotic but today with the leaks to the press which were on the internet by noon, the day was hell in a handbasket, so getting away from politics for a few hours was a nice bit of stress relief.

"What do you think we do about the Vice President thing?" Charlie looked toward Gunny.

"You're asking for my help on a political problem?" Gunny questioned. "I think you tell the Times and the Journal that we've formed a short list. We will be consulting with the DNC and the Blue Dogs on this. Then I think we call a cabinet meeting and have the President shake their heads about the eleventh commandment. Then I think we call the Senate Majority Leader into the Oval Office just to give official Washington a heart attack."

"That's the Gunny we know." Morley chuckled.

"Hey guys, I need to talk to Gunny about the NSC, could you give us a minute?" The President chanced and the senior staff nodded before vacating the room. "You going to be back at work on Monday?"

"I'm hoping." Gunny answered. "So, the DNC put me on the short list for Vice President?"

"You've done a damn good job as my Chief of Staff for the last few years." The President complimented. "Truth is that you were on my short list from the first second I had to start thinking about this. Gunny, I want you to be the Vice President of the United States."

"After reading the Times this morning, I was almost expecting us to talk about this, sir." Gunny answered honestly.

"So, you've had time to think about it?" The President questioned.

"Yeah." Gunny nodded. "And as much as I'd think we'd be a hell of a team, sir, I think we're a better team when I'm five feet away in the office of the White House Chief of Staff then when I'm across the street in the OEOB. Besides, there's more power in my office then there is in the office of the Vice President, anyway."

"So, you're saying that you don't want to be Vice President because you don't wanted to be demoted?" Nate raised a curious eyebrow.

"That pretty much sums it up." Gunny nodded. That wasn't the whole truth but he couldn't tell the whole truth to the President. After having read the New York Times this morning, the first thing he thought about was the baby agreement with Stacy. The whole argument about the personal lives of White House senior staff not being public business would be right out the window if he were elected Vice President.

"Ah, well, guess I actually have to listen to something that DNC has to say, don't I?" The President chuckled.

"I actually have an idea on what we do about the Vice Presidency." Gunny chimed in. "We let candidates declare and then we let the delegates decide at the convention. A good old floor vote like they had in 1944, that's how your hero Mr. Truman got on the ticket."

"It's great ratings and great politics and as long as I make sure that we get everyone together on the eleventh commandment we won't cause a lot of political trouble or message communication." The President nodded his head and motioned for the senior staff to re-enter the room. They were joined by Dr. Hamilton who went straight to Gunny's chart.

"Alright, Mr. Galindez, you are fit to be released into someone's medical custody. Is that person in this room by any chance?" Dr. Hamilton looked around.

"Don't look at me." The President mused. "Secret Service won't let me."

"My apartment's too small." Kat joined in the laughter.

"I live in a single at the Watergate, not sure how comfortable you'd be." Morley added.

"I'll take in the Chief of Staff." Stacy volunteered. Dr. Hamilton handed the release form to her and she scribbled her signature across it.

"We're all set here, Mr. Galindez, you're free to go." The Doctor smiled. "You will have to take a wheelchair out to your car for liability reasons, though."

"You're pushing him." Morley and Charlie told Stacy simultaneously.

0145 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm tossed his cover on to the hat rack by the door. In the last week, he had tried to find a way to tell Mac about the Vice Presidency. That's why he spent the whole week walking around like someone had made him drag a heavy load up a large hill. He set his briefcase down by the door and walked into the living room where Mac was sitting on the couch watching the latest in the CSI franchise with Tommy asleep against her side and Matt asleep in the crib five feet from where she was sitting. "Where's Sasha? And I'm tempted to as where Tim is?" Harm chuckled as he sat down against his wife's other side.

"Sleepover at the White House tonight." Mac answered with a smile as she raised a mouthful of popcorn to her lips. "You ever think we're spoiling the kids?"

"Because Sasha is sleeping over at the White House?" Harm ventured. "You can't help who your kids make friends with, Mac."

"I guess that's true." She replied. "So, what's with you this week? You've been walking around like you're out of it."

"There was something I never told you." Harm started. "I had a talk with the President last week."

"Okay." Mac seemed kind of confused. It wasn't odd that Harm talked with the President, it was odd that it would have this kind of effect on him.

"Mac, he asked me to be the Vice President." Harm blurted out.

"And you told him 'no' without talking to me?" The Irish temper of her heritage began to rise in her throat.

"I told him 'no' because the way it looks right now, he's going to get a second term and there's a good chance a court vacancy is going to open up and he told me that my being the Vice President would remove you from consideration for a court seat." Harm answered. "I didn't really care for the job, but I saw how much you wanted that court seat last year."

Mac paused for a second. She was smiling on the inside. Not because she was glad that he had passed up so great an opportunity but because it showed the character of the man she married that he would sacrifice that opportunity _for her._ She put her hand on top of his. "Harm, I really wish you had talked to me about this. I would have told you that while I certainly consider this a gesture above anything else, the fact that you are my husband outweighs all else. If it was something that you wanted, then it was more important then my own career aspirations."

"Mac, as a Supreme Court judge at your age, you could have a forty year legacy with regard to the jurisprudence of this country. I could have four as Vice President because one term as Vice President is by no means any more a guaranteed lock on a Presidential nomination." Harm answered. "I would rather stick to my office in the Pentagon then move up to the OEOB, if it meant that my wife got to wear the robes of a Supreme Court justice and write opinions at the Marble Palace."

"Sentimentalist." Mac grinned and tossed him a playful elbow to the ribs.

"Well, I'm just saying Mac, I've got four stars on my shoulder now, I'm the third highest ranking Naval officer in the United States, you're my wife and I've got three great kids, what more could I really ask for?" He kissed her forehead. "Well, I suppose my wife could be a Supreme Court Justice."

"You're going to have to talk to your friend the President about that." Mac answered with a quick kiss of her own.

0222 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

The Cabinet room was full. Nate looked around at the collection of talent sitting around this table. At this table were some of the top Democratic minds in the country from all over the country. New Mexico, New York, Washington, Texas, Iowa and Georgia were all represented at this table along with several other states. The President took a deep breath. To his left sat Secretary of Defence AJ Chegwidden and to his right sat Secretary of State Andrea Wallace and to the right of Secretary Wallace sat Danny Proper, the Secretary of the Treasury.

The President ran a hand over his mouth before starting the meeting. "I realize that this is the first full meeting we've had since our friend and colleague Vice President Wesley Grier died, though I know I've met with several of you individually since then." He paused and let out a heavy sigh. "As I'm sure you've all read in the New York Times by now, the Democratic National Committee as well as the Democratic Congressional Blue Dog Caucus have leaked lists about who they would like to see run. After having met with the White House senior staff and after having shouted at the Chairman of the DNC, I have made the following decision: January 2nd, 2012 is the filing deadline for consideration for the Vice Presidency. The decision will be made by the delegates at the Democratic National Convention this July. To those of you who are mulling a run, I beg you to seriously consider whether you can corral the necessary support to win. If you can't, please just fill your portfolio as I have assigned and the Senate hath confirmed. Are there any questions?"

"Yes, sir. Will you be endorsing any candidate?" Secretary Wallace asked.

"No, I will not. I will state however the two caveats to that answer. The first is that after the second ballot at the convention I will be freeing Kat, Stacy, Morley, Charlie and Gunny to endorse candidates and work the state's delegates. The second caveat is what is known in my family as the eleventh commandment: Thou shalt not bash a fellow Democrat. If you do, I will grab the nearest newspaper reporter and put an end to your Vice Presidential hopes so fast that it will make your head spin. You can point out policy differences between yourself and another candidate, that's fine, you go negative and you lose."

"Yes, sir." Danny and Andrea answered aloud, the rest of the cabinet just nodded.

"Good, now, the meeting is ended. I would like to see the Secretaries of Defence, State and Treasury in the Oval Office. Thank you." The President nodded and got up from the table. Everyone else stood up and the three aforementioned cabinet secretaries followed him through the White House to the Oval Office. The President closed the door behind himself. And turned to face Secretary Chegwidden. "AJ, what the hell were you thinking?! Who the hell suddenly made it Pentagon prerogative to make political recommendations to Congress!"

"You did, sir, when you told me that the Pentagon was to cooperate with Congress under all circumstances." AJ shot back.

"Well…alright, that order came back to bite me in the ass, but I still don't like the line blurring between the military and its civilian leadership. Tell me, please that you didn't pressure the Blue Dogs to put you on the list." The President pleaded.

"No, sir, I most certainly did not. Nor did I have any intention of running." AJ sounded offended.

"Thank you, Mr. Secretary. I by no means meant to offend you, this is just about 12 pounds of political problem and right now my back only has a 10 pound capacity." The President nodded. "Talk to you tomorrow, AJ."

"Yes, sir, Mr. President." Secretary Chegwidden nodded before leaving the Oval. This left only the Secretaries of Treasury and State facing the President.

"Would I be correct in assuming that the two of you are going to try and win the nomination for Vice President?" The President inquired. The two of them took a long time before slowly nodding. "Alright, remember the second ballot rule and remember the eleventh commandment. If you break the eleventh commandment, you will get the plagues of my wrath, I promise you that. Until then, I want a unified cabinet. I don't want State and Treasury feuding over anything and if you do, I will consider the instigator as having broken the eleventh commandment. Are we understood?"

"Yes, sir." The two of them answered.

"Good, now, it's December 18th, you have four more days in Washington. I won't see you in that time period. Merry Christmas, talk to you when you get back." The President shook each of their hands before closing the door behind them.

0305 ZULU

TURNER RESIDENCE

MANASSAS, VIRGINIA

"We need to talk about this." Bobbi insisted as the two of them walked into the house. "The entire Democratic Party reads the New York Times; you're the second highest ranking African American military officer in American history, only Colin Powell outranks you. You're the highest ranking African American Naval officer in history. The Blue Dog Democrats nominated you and the Congressional Black Caucus seconded that nomination, do you have any idea how rare it is that those two groups agree on anything without the President kicking their ass?"

"I'm not a politician, Bobbi." Sturgis reminded her.

"You're the Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, that is the second most highly politicized job in the entire United States Military. If you don't think you're a politician, you're lying to yourself." She replied. "Now, right now, you're the great black hope. You could be the first African American to hold high constitutional office. You're going to go into work tomorrow and you're going to have calls from Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton and the chairman of the Congressional Black Caucus all of whom are going to want to have lunch with you and all of whom are going to encourage you to run." Bobbi argued.

"What do you want me to do, Bobbi?" Sturgis charged.

"I want you to lead. I want you to stand up, with all your intelligence and your charisma and your charm and your oratory and I want you to lead." She got right in her husband's face. "Don't you realize what this means? More then two hundred years of oppression and inequality leading up to 1965, even today, black kids are pulled over everyday by some hick cop because the car they're driving is just a little too nice."

"Don't start with me, Bobbi." Sturgis rolled his eyes.

"Why not? Why the hell not? We're talking about the 2012 United States Presidential Election, two completely separate Democratic caucuses, their total membership enumerating a full third of the Democratic majority in the House." Bobbi argued.

"The Blue Dogs also nominated Danny Proper who, at the moment, is the presumptive frontrunner to be the next Vice President because he's also everyone's favourite to be the Democratic President starting on January 20th, 2016 at 12:30pm." Sturgis countered. "I'm not guaranteed anything."

"Need I remind you that I am the last person to whom that needs to be pointed out? Unlike you, I grew up without a father; unlike you I didn't have the Navy pay for my law school because I busted my ass to get through Yale." She stopped with a huff. "You're Jackie Robinson."

"What?" Sturgis raised an eyebrow.

"Before he broke the colour barrier in baseball, do you think he stood in the dugout and looked around and thought of all the reasons why it might be a bad idea to step out on to the field? Do you think that he thought of all the shit he was going to kick up?" She paused and put a hand under his chin. "You're damn right he did. But he went out there anyway. That's called courage and you've got it. Now, show the American people you've got it."

He began to smile. "You're good at this you know?"

"That's why the people of Michigan keep electing me." She kissed him on the cheek. "Step out of the dugout."


	38. Hard Noses and Hard Liners

1212 ZULU

AIR FORCE ONE

SOMEWHERE OVER THE IRISH SEA

"Did you have a good Christmas, Mr. President?" Gunny came walking into the President's travelling office.

"Very good, Gunny. For some reason Mrs. Ross felt the need to get me two dogs." The President looked up from his latest budget memo. "How's the electoral math?"

"Right now, four weeks after the shooting, we're down from 77 to 63." Gunny explained. "Depending on where we go from here we could be headed toward a landslide. Then again, it's all up to who the Republicans pick."

"Which is why we're going to this NATO summit, right?" The President questioned. "I wonder what inspired the First Lady to buy me an Irish Setter puppy and an Airedale puppy?"

"I'm sure I don't know, sir." Gunny took a seat across from the President. "I can't believe that on January 2012 we're going to sign Russia into NATO."

"I know, I think all the old Cold War relics that are retiring in the Keys right now are having simultaneous heart attacks." Nate chuckled.

"Sir, just one thing. How do we justify this in a campaign?" Gunny questioned.

"Alright, Gunny. Admitting Russia into NATO gets them preferred treatment by the WTO, IMF and the EU, it also makes it easier for us to vote as a bloc on the UN Security Council and thus isolate China, who would be the only non-NATO member. Giving Russia preferred treatment by the WTO, IMF and EU will drastically improve their economic situation and speed their recovery from that wretched communist experiment. When the Russian people are making more money, they're less likely to turn to right win ultra-nationalists who are basically fascists, thus making Russia a more stable democracy." Nate took a deep breath. "Gotta love globalization, Gunny."

"Just one question, sir." Gunny chanced. "What did you name the dogs?"

"The Irish Setter is Cuchulainn and the Airedale is Duke." Nate answered with a smile.

"Cuchulainn, sir?" Gunny asked.

"He's the chief hero from Celtic Mythology." Admiral Turner walked into the office behind Gunny. "Nice to see the two of you."

"Admiral Turner." Gunny shook Sturgis' hand.

"Sturgis." Nate followed up. "Thanks for representing the military on this trip."

"Not a problem, Mr. President." Sturgis replied.

"If memory serves, you're the only Vice Presidential candidate that I haven't had a photo op with yet." Nate nodded.

"Yes, sir." Sturgis replied.

"So, how do you like the world of professional politics?" Nate asked as the three men took a seat.

"There seems to be an awful lot of hand-shaking and speech-making, sir." Sturgis replied with a smile.

"Oh, you're going to hate it by the convention in July and even after that, there's still four months of campaigning, if you win." Nate replied.

"Sir, you're going to want to see this." Morley came barging in and flipped on the TV. Instantly images of cars on fire and hostile gunfire being exchanged in the desert of Western Iran flooded into the office. "About two hours ago, Iraqi Republican Guard forces invaded Western Iran."

"How many in the invasion force?" The President asked immediately.

"60,000." Morley answered.

"That's surprisingly small, isn't it, Admiral Turner?" The President turned to his Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

"Very small, sir, it's a lot less then they used to invade Iran in 1980, sir." Sturgis answered.

"So, why the hell would they go in again, sir?" Gunny asked.

"Simple. First, the current Iranian regime is relatively new and it's democratic, which in the mind of whatever Hussein is running Iraq at the moment, I believe it's Uday, that makes it inherently unstable. Second, in the Gulf, oil is power because oil is money. Because Iraq is Baathist and secular, many members of the government understand some facets of globalization. We proved we'd defend Kuwait in 1991 but in 1979 we proved that we couldn't be bothered to defend Iran the last time we had a friendly government there." Nate answered. "Power, opportunity and limited opposition, Mr. Hussein thinks he's got the best chance if he goes in now, so, he'll go in now."

"What do we do about this?" Gunny asked.

"Well, the first thing you do is get the Secretary of State into the comm. room with me. Then you get the CIA Director, National Security Advisor and Secretary of Defence on the video conference. I'm going to order American Military installations in the Gulf up to DEFCON 4 and increase patrols in the No-Fly Zones off our carrier in the Gulf and out of Incirlik Air Force Base in Turkey." Nate replied. "Get them on the horn, Gunny."

"Yes, sir." Gunny nodded.

THIRTY MINUTES LATER

THE WHITE HOUSE SITUATION ROOM

WASHINGTON, DC

The Situation Room was packed to the brim. With the President out of the country, the National Security Advisor ran the Situation Room. The President and the Secretary of State were live via video conference from Air Force One and the President looked nine kinds of pissed off. "Clayton, I am about to attend a meeting of the top military alliance in the world. A meeting, during the course of which, I can surely expect to get questions about what we knew and when we knew it. So, I guess my question is, how the fuck did we miss 60,000 Iraqi Republican Guard headed for the border?!" The President practically shouted.

"Admittedly, sir, we dropped the ball on this one." Clayton nodded.

"You sure as hell did, Clayton! What the hell was going on at CIA that you could miss something this big?" The National Security Advisor took over.

"Can we all just calm down?" Secretary Chegwidden intervened. "Mr. President, as per your orders, all American military installations in the Persian Gulf region have gone to DEFCON 4. We've stepped up patrols of the no-fly zones in the north and south. The _USS Dwight D. Eisenhower_ is in the Persian Gulf; her F-18E squads will be patrolling the southern no-fly zone and Air Force F-22 Raptors will fly out of Incirlik AFB in Turkey."

"Sir, now would be the time to discuss the rules of engagement." Harm interjected. "Our pilots in the southern no-fly zone are sure to draw ground-fire from Iraqi troops. If this becomes a reality, when this becomes a reality…" Harm was cut off.

"Tell them that they have the permission of the President to kill the bastards." Nate replied. "Tell them that they have the permission of the President to eliminate all threats which risk their personal safety and that of their comrades. But only, if they are first fired upon."

"Understood, sir." Harm nodded.

"Charlie, talk to the Gang of Eight, get them on board for this. Tell them we're not declaring war, we're just stepping up routine surveillance." The President directed.

"On it, sir." Charlie nodded.

"Alright, for the next few hours I'm going to be attending a beautiful welcoming in ceremony to admit Russia into NATO. I will be reachable at all times. After this, I will be getting back on Air Force One and coming promptly back to Washington where I hope we can sort this mess out. I'm getting the Secretary of State to put through a call to the Bulgarians who are at present our go between in Iraq. They will tell Mr. Hussein that unless he ceases and desists, the President has every intention of bringing all force of the United States Air Force down upon his head." The President responded.

"Yes, sir." There were grins from the gang in the Situation Room.

"Good, now, Clayton, if this happens again, I'm going to have you dragged in front of Congress and you're going to have to explain to them what happened. I won't fire you, but I can promise you, Clayton, Congress is far less forgiving then I." The video screen went dark and the crowd in the Situation Room began to stir.

"I'd say you just got taken out back to the woodshed, Webb." AJ Chegwidden smirked as he zipped up his briefcase.

"No one goes anywhere." National Security Advisor Mike Bradley. "We're running the directives out of this room until the President gets back. I don't care if that's twelve hours or eighteen hours or even twenty-four hours. Let's get to it."

"Who made you the Great High Water Buffalo?" Harm raised an eyebrow.

"Both the President and the Secretary of State are out of the country and we're in the Situation Room which is my domain. Also, I'm the President's senior aide on National Security affairs, so, we can all sit down until he gets back." Mike Bradley pressed.

"You're no fun, Mike." Harm rolled his eyes and returned to his seat. "Can we at least have the watch commander bring us some coffee if we're going to be in here for an unknown length of time?"

"Yeah, that would be okay." Mike answered, loosening up a bit.

1456 ZULU

NATO HEADQUARTERS

BRUSSELS, BELGIUM

Nate stood to the side overlooking the flame in the courtyard. He let out a heavy breath and continued to stare off before the ceremony. "Waiting for me to bring you a cigar, sir?" Gunny asked as he walked up to his boss's side.

"Nah, can't smoke for a photo op, bad politics." Nate chuckled. "I'm in awe of my college roommate and I'm the President, Gunny. That shouldn't happen."

"Well, to be fair, sir, you don't have the average college roommate. Yours is the President of Russia." Gunny settled his elbows on the marble ledge.

"He's going to be Russia's FDR, Gunny. The guy always had a better grasp of macroeconomics then I did." Nate smiled.

"Sir, you're the one who got him into NATO, who negotiated to get him preferred status with the European Union and talked to the WTO about giving him an entrance package." Gunny reminded his boss. "If Russia recovers economically, you're going to have some silent credit for it."

"Now's the time when you tell me that we need to head down to the courtyard for the ceremony, right?" Nate turned to face his Chief of Staff.

"Yeah, boss." Gunny chuckled and the two men walked with the Secret Service detail into the NATO Headquarters, affectionately called 'the home store' by the American military personnel who worked there. Gunny pulled a prescription bottle out of his jacket pocket.

"Painkillers for the gunshot wound?" Nate questioned.

"Yes, sir, some times the pain is unbearable." Gunny nodded as he slid a pill into the palm of his hand. "It's vicodin."

"That's powerful stuff." Nate seemed a little hesitant.

"I can handle it, sir." Gunny assured his boss. The two of them met up with the other NATO heads of state. The President began shaking hands with the President of France and the Chancellor of Germany while conversing with the British Prime Minister and the latest member to the NATO gang, the Russian President.

"Takes a long time to ever witness a gathering of international political talent on this level." Stacy walked over next to him "You think when those two were sitting in class in Princeton, that any of their professors thought that they would create a closer US-Russia relationship then has existed since Potsdam?"

"I think if I'd known them back then, I'd think that they were a couple of drunken frat boys determined to kill their brain cells with beer and yet, I'd still be amazed that both of them could win scholarships." Gunny chuckled and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Are you on your second bottle of vicodin already?" Stacy questioned, seeing the pill bottle in his pocket. "I mean you only got out of the hospital a little while ago."

"Are you determined to mother me for some reason?" Gunny looked slightly annoyed.

"I just want to know if you're in pain, that's all. Not too much to ask is it? You're my boss, you're my friend, it would make sense to most people that I care about whether you're in pain or not." Stacy protested, just glaring right at him.

"We've got a few hours here in Brussels; they're going to call the processional in a few minutes to begin the ceremony in the courtyard. The leaders are going to walk out and then the Presidents of the United States and Russia will walk up to the flame and the honour guard will hand the Russian flame to the Russian President who will continue on the ceremony and state the oath of admission with our President as his sponsor. Then we've got the joint press conference with the two Presidents." Gunny informed the Press Secretary.

"First of all, I know all that, I read the itinerary on the way over. Second, I'm not sure how much I want the two of them out there together taking questions because it's going to be a charisma battle of epic proportions. A young Russian President who's fluent in English and a young American President who's fluent in Russian and the two of them are going to be charming and funny and I know that it would make a lot of Americans nervous to see us that close to Russia." Stacy interjected. "Even if they don't mind us being close to Russia, we just have to hope that the President can keep pace with President Petrov."

"Do you think that there is a politician alive who can out pace President Nathan Ross when it comes to charm and charisma? The man is the first Democrat in thirty years to win in Texas for God's sake. That takes eight kinds of charm in twelve different directions." Gunny heard the guard call the processional and he readied himself. "Sounds like show time to me."

"Yeah, me too." Stacy nodded, noting how this was just the latest in a string of ways that Gunny had sought to detach himself lately.

2242 ZULU

ANNA'S APARTMENT

FOGGY BOTTOM, WASHINGTON DC

Sergei tapped on the door and waited for her to answer. He breathed hard and hot into his hands and rubbed them together to warm them up. He heard footsteps padding toward the door inside the apartment and closed his eyes. This could be bad, this could be very bad. Damn it, why couldn't he just do something normal like meet her at some obscure coffee shop, why the hell did he have to go to her apartment?

He fondled his gloves inside the pockets of his jacket. D.C. was nothing like the Urals but it sure could be damn cold when it wanted to be. The door opened a few inches and the 5'5" blonde stood there looking at him slightly annoyed. "Can I help you with anything or have you come here lecture me again?" She rolled her eyes.

"I came to talk?" Sergei chanced.

"I don't want to talk." Anna retorted.

"I brought Chinese." Sergei held up the bag. That was one thing about pissing off someone that you'd known for close to a decade. You knew just how to bribe them. Anna fought the grin that wanted to come to her face.

"You've got twenty minutes." She pushed the door open all the way to let him in. Sergei unzipped his coat and hung it up in her closet before taking the Chinese food into the kitchen to sit with her. He put the bag down on the table and the two of them began to pull out the cartons of food. She opened one up and took a long smell. "You remembered my favourite." She retained a squeal of delight.

"Well, I'm not completely insufferable." Sergei smiled as he pulled out the two chopsticks and clacked them together. "Like I said, I came here to talk."

"Like I said, you got twenty minutes." Anna poked at her food.

"Alright, the last time we really talked was at the bar a few months ago and before that it had been years." Sergei started. "We don't know how to communicate with each other, all we know how to do is get angry because something inside of us needs to get out and that's the only way that we're willing to let it out."

"So, your C.O made you see a shrink after what happened at the bar, huh?" Anna chuckled. "I lived with a shrink for the first eighteen years of my life, Sergei, you don't think I understand the walk, talk and psychobabble?"

"Shows what you know." Sergei chuckled. "He sent me to see your sister." Anna went wide eyed at that news. She nearly choked on a piece of pork.

"You're seeing Beverly?!" Anna choked out.

"Well, we're still just friends, and she's married and a minister, so it's only on a professional basis for now." Sergei smiled and gave her a 'come on, that was funny' look.

"Are you trying to be a pain in the ass or are you trying to win me back by being funny?" Anna grinned from behind her glass of water.

"Just what am I supposed to be winning you back to?" Sergei toyed.

"I don't know, I'm still trying to figure out why you showed up at my door with Chinese food and jokes." Anna eyed him suspiciously.

"Well, I just was mulling over one of your sister's theories and I decided that it was about time that we talked about it. So, here goes." Sergei let out a deep breath. "Your sister thinks, and I agree, that what we try to express to each other is attraction. Now, this doesn't surprise me, being as you're just about the hottest woman I know. Now, I realize I screwed up, I also think it's fair to say that you have too but that doesn't change the fact that I'm completely irrevocably attracted to you." Anna was smiling by this point. "I think we should go out on a date."

"I do too." Anna interrupted him.

"Well, I'm thinking that – wait, what?" Sergei raised an eyebrow. "Really? You want to go on a date with me?"

"Yeah, I have for a long time, I thought that would have been very obvious." She smirked. "You'd better be out to impress me, I promise you, I'm no easy sell."

"I'll see what I can do." Sergei smiled as he finished up his dinner. "How did I do on time?" He questioned coyly.

Anna looked down to examine her watch. "Nineteen minutes, fifty-nine seconds." She mused. "Great timing."

"Have a good night." Sergei nodded and got to his feet. He started walking through the kitchen when Anna caught up to him and caught him by the arm. He turned to face her and she pushed him back against the fridge. One hand on either side of his face she locked her lips on his, sensuously running her hands through his hair as her tongue traced the seem of his lips. After a few seconds, the two of them came up for air. "How's Saturday night?" Sergei asked.

"I'll wear something nice." Anna smiled from ear to ear as Sergei headed for the door.

0555 ZULU

MARINE ONE

3 MINUTES NORTH OF THE SOUTH LAWN

"Sir, we've got the latest news from the Republican caucus in Iowa!" Gunny shouted over the helicopter blades.

"I can hear you, Gunny, you don't have to shout." The President nodded. "How's it look?"

"Burke 33, Coles 30, Adams 25 and all the rest of them had less then five percent each." Gunny reported. "That's a close caucus, boss."

"Damn close, Gunny. But it's good for us." The President chuckled as Marine One set down on the White House South Lawn. "If Larry Burke wins the Republican Primaries, we should be able to clean his clock in the general. Do you really think that the Governor of Kansas, a Governor who has tried to ban condoms from schools and ban evolution from schools can beat a Nobel Prize winning incumbent President?"

"Feeling confident, sir?" Gunny asked as the door to the helicopter opened and he stepped down on to the south lawn along with the President.

"No, just trying to focus on something pleasant. I'm about to walk into the Situation Room and listen to a bunch of military and national security minds that are going to be edgy by nature because we have men and women in uniform who are in harm's way." The President walked across the lawn and waved to the news cameras before heading into the building. The two men were followed by the Secretary of State who was a few steps behind them. "Just tell me that no one got shot at."

"Sir, as far as I know, no one got shot at." Gunny replied with a smirk. The two men stopped in the hallway.

"Are you telling me that because I asked you to and you're being a smart ass or are you telling me that because no one actually got shot?" Nate had his hands firmly on his hips.

"Sir, I'm telling you that because no one got shot." Gunny assured his boss. "As an aside, I thought it was a little funny."

"Yeah, well, I don't have the time to be funny right now, Gunny." The two of them kept walking toward the Situation Room.

"Sir, don't you think that we should have Governor McKinnon on this. I mean, he is a candidate for the Vice Presidency and wouldn't having the other three candidates in the room for this session of the NSC give them an unfair advantage when it came to national security issues?" Gunny asked, knowing full well that the Secretary of State was in earshot. The President had briefed the senior staff earlier in the week about the second ballot at the convention and that they would be freed to go on to the floor and support whomever they wanted. Gunny had always fully intended to back Admiral Turner for the post.

The President put his palm into the door scanner for the Situation Room. The door slid open and the three senior officials walked in, which was followed by the door shutting behind them. "I'll never get used to that, it's like Star Trek." Gunny mused. "What's the situation in Iraq?"

"We've stepped up the flight patrols over Iraqi Kurdistan and the south. So far, no one has fired on us, which is probably a good thing." Secretary Chegwidden interjected. "I'm not sure how much longer that's going to last."

"Sir, I don't think that the Iraqis are going to fire at us, sir." Harm interjected. "We'd intercept them with F-22s, F-16s, F-18s and then on, your orders, about twenty-four hours later rain a great firestorm down on them with our B-2s."

"See, now that doesn't sound like a lot of fun for them and it sounds like relocating rubble from Fallujah to Kirkuk to me." The President stated glibly. "I have no problem with wiping out whole portions of the Iraqi Republican Guard in one air assault, just no civilian casualties, understood?"

"Yes, sir." Harm nodded.

"Good, have we heard from the Bulgarians yet?" The President turned to his National Security Advisor.

"No, not yet, sir." Mike Bradley answered. "I'm guessing that 'Stop it or the President will put his foot up your ass', didn't go over very big in Baghdad."

"I could bomb Mr. Hussein into the Stone Age, I imagine that would show him just how deathly serious I can be about people not screwing with American interests in that region." The President's voice was taking on a gravely edge. "I imagine the Saudis are sufficiently pissed off."

"Steam shooting out of their ears, sir." The Secretary of the Treasury jumped in.

"You're handling foreign affairs now, Danny?" The President raised a questioning eyebrow. The Treasury Secretary realized that he had overstepped his bounds but made an effort to explain himself. "Sir, I had a meeting with the Saudi Ambassador to discuss the coming OPEC conference. Let me assure you, sir, he was very vocal about this matter."

"He likely told you that it was an Arab matter and that they would settle it amongst themselves." The President quipped.

"In so many words, sir." Danny nodded.

"Yeah, well, if I leave it up to the Saudis, they'd probably let Iraq get away with whatever they want because as much of an Orientalist as Sam Huntington was, he had a point. Iran and Saudi Arabia are going to fight over spheres of influence in that part of the world and the Saudis won't miss an opportunity to take the Iranians down a peg. Especially since they don't want Islamic democracy spreading among their own people." The President raised a hand in front of his mouth. "When do we expect the Bulgarians to contact us with the response of the Iraqi government?"

"Sometime inside the next ninety minutes, boss." Secretary AJ Chegwidden answered.

"So, sometime between 2:30am and 3:00 am here on the east coast?" Gunny checked.

"Yeah." Harm nodded.

"Alright, everyone but Mike take five, use the head. I'll call down to the kitchen and have them send something up." The President got up from his seat at the head of the table as his chief advisors took their five minute break. He saw Gunny sink his hand into the pocket of his sport coat and retrieve the small tanned plastic prescription bottle. "You need another one of those already?"

"It's been twelve hours, boss, it's not like I'm going on hourly doses." Gunny suddenly seemed rather defensive.

"You don't have to get defensive with me. You're my friend, you had major surgery, I'm just checking up on you." The President gave his Chief of Staff a pat on the shoulder. "Now, brew me some coffee." The two men had a good chuckle and Gunny tossed one pill into his mouth and the bottle back into his pocket before heading over to the coffee machine. "Mike, you have to let the NSC take a piss once in a while, otherwise, they're going to get ornery." The President mused with his National Security Advisor.

"Sorry, Nate…I, uh, I mean Mr. President, even after three years in this job, dealing with issues of war and peace can rattle the old cage." Mike knocked on the side of his head.

"Well, God willing we'll have five more to get it right." The President sat on the edge of the table, his arms folded in front of his chest. "You like the job?"

"It's a pain in the ass, but it's the highest the government has ever paid my sorry ass." Mike laughed. "The office space is nicer, too. And it's not as dangerous as working for the Company."

"Nothing's as dangerous as working for the Company." Nate replied, then he thought of a few of the people who were on his NSC staff. "Well, maybe working at JAG."

"Yeah, I've heard the stories." Mike gave a fake shudder. The doors to the Sit Room opened and Harm came charging back in with Sturgis holding a manila envelope.

"Sir, we just got this via special courier from Naval Intelligence." Harm opened the envelope and slid its contents out on to the table. "These images were taken from a surveillance satellite, it shows the units of Iraqi Republican Guard retreating back over the border into Iraq."

"Hallelujah!" Nate rejoiced. "Keep the air patrols running for the next 72 hours, if the retreat continues, bring the military installations down from DEFCON 4."

"Yes, sir." Sturgis nodded with a smile.

"Guess we know why we didn't hear from the Bulgarians, sir." Gunny humoured.

"Indeed, Gunny, indeed." Nate yawned. "Now, I'm damn tired. Y'all get out of my house!"

2345 ZULU, SATURDAY

ANNA'S APARTMENT

FOGGY BOTTOM, WASHINGTON DC

Sergei stood outside her door looking very dapper in his suit and tie. His long coat over them made him look very different, much more high priced then when he wore his uniform. He had tapped on her door, somewhat hesitant, somewhat anxious. "Come in!" She called and he pushed the door open to step inside.

"You shouldn't leave your door unlocked in D.C." Sergei jokingly scolded as he stepped inside.

"It's a pretty safe building. The doorman's a nice guy." Anna called from her room.

"Yeah, I noticed." Sergei was grinning. He had a bouquet of a dozen red roses behind his back. He considered it a part of his determination to woo her as she deserved. He was aiming to put all the old movies to shame. Be smoother then Carey Grant, a better dancer then Gene Kelly and more honest then Jimmy Stewart. He'd gotten the President's approval of course, it was generally a good idea when offending him meant waking up with a two megaton bomb in your bed.

"I'll be out in a second." Her voice wasn't quite as loud. Anna loved having music playing in the apartment, jazz usually. She loved the female jazz artists like Diana Krall, Billie Holliday and Nina Simone. Right now, the song switched over to Diana Krall's _The Look of Love_. Anna came walking out of her room in a red dress that was cut at the knee and swept lightly and loosely against her legs. The bodice fitted to her form around her waist and the thick red straps that ran over her breasts met behind her neck (his description, he knew paled in comparison to the true vision she made before him in that instant). She had on the same shade of bold lipstick, the kind that played on that sex kitten blonde image while at the same time making her look like Jean Harlow.

He nervously extended his hand to show her the flowers. She smiled at him, kissed him on the cheek and accepted them, taking them into the kitchen to put them into water. "You haven't said a word since I stepped out of my bedroom." She grinned, slightly self-conscious as she slid on her coat.

"I didn't think I could do you justice." He breathed out.

"Smooth-talker." She winked at him as they headed for the door.


	39. New Guest Stars and New Hampshire

_Guest Starring: Eric Close as Mitch Kingston_

It was early, then again it was always early when you worked at the White House and you had to be in to the work by eight in the morning. Gunny padded out into the kitchen and threw a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster and mixed up a little oatmeal. After tossing it into the microwave, he headed off to the bathroom. Carefully and lightly closing the door behind him, he opened the door to the medicine cabinet. He pulled out the vicodin pill bottle and looked at it for a second before sliding one pill out and popping it into his mouth. He swallowed the pill as he padded back out to the kitchen.

Today was his last day under Stacy's medical custody. He would admit, though never aloud and never to her, that he kind of liked having her around the apartment. The toast shot up out of the toaster and Gunny tossed them on to his plate, he took his breakfast over to the table and sat down. He ruffled open his copy of that morning's Washington Post and waited for the coffee to finish percolating.

The Republicans had held their New Hampshire Primary the previous night and former Governor of Vermont, Chet Adams, had won the primary with a staggeringly high 41 percent of the vote. Virginia Senator Norm Coles had come in second with 29 percent of the vote and Kansas Governor Larry Burke had come in third with 17 percent of the vote. He rifled through that morning's news rather quickly. The key to being the Chief of Staff at just after five in the morning was very similar to the way the Press Secretary prepared. You checked all the major news services to keep up on the stories, caught the morning briefings from your assistant for fifteen minutes and then you dived head first into the day.

Gunny finished his breakfast and dumped his dishes into the sink. By the time he got himself dressed for work and almost headed out the door, Stacy was just getting up. "Morning." She muttered as she awoke on the sleeper-sofa and tossed off the comforter. She was wearing those damn pink booty shorts that were able to boil a man's blood. They showed off her every curve along with her long tanned legs. All in all, not a bad sight before you went off to work.

"G'morning." Gunny nodded at her with a grin. "Adams won New Hampshire"

"I'll try to contain my amazement." Stacy deadpanned. "New Hampshire doesn't mean anything to the Republicans in the primaries. It's all about the south and the Midwest for them and that's where Burke and Coles are going to lock horns."

"You think that Adams is a non-entity?" Gunny pulled on his gloves.

"I think if he couldn't win second in Iowa as the former Vice Presidential candidate, then the GOP is looking for new blood." Stacy rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "That and the moderates and the Reagan Republicans are being rather conniving."

"What do you mean, Stacy?" Gunny put his hood on.

"It's no secret that many of the more moderate factions of the Republican Party have gotten kind of annoyed at the Evangelicals on the right over the last few years. They get annoyed because, if the Evangelicals don't like the GOP candidate, then they don't vote and the GOP loses. If they do get an Evangelical candidate then independents and moderates get scared and they vote Democrat. So, the moderates figure that they let the Evangelicals nominate their candidate, because the President is popular, he'll landslide him and that will put the issue to bed." Stacy explained.

"You really think that pounding Larry Burke down the trail this year's going to loosen the Evangelical clasp on the Republican Party?" Gunny shook his head. "I think you're dreaming."

"Why are you heading into work so early?" Stacy sipped at her own coffee.

"Going with the President and the First Dogs on the lawn this morning." Gunny answered.

"It's ten degrees below zero!" Stacy protested.

"Yeah, well, the President is being rather particular recently." Gunny was smiling. "You make quite a sight this morning." He mused before closing the door behind him as he headed off to work.

1155 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm was unusually chipper at this hour of the morning. Of course, he had reason to be, waking up next to a woman like his wife generally would have made any man smile. After having kissed Mac on the temple, he headed into the kitchen. Professor Rabb had been back at George Washington University for the last two weeks and in that time, it was interesting to observe the change in her mood. When Mac was on maternity leave last semester she was more maternal and sweet. When she was Professor Rabb she was more cerebral, slightly more fierce while still retaining her inherent maternal nature. Harm made a few omelettes for Mac and the kids who would soon be racing down the stairs

Mac always looked so damn stylish in her pants suit. Sasha was as cute as a button; Harm could barely believe that his little girl was turning nine this year. He subconsciously raised a hand to the grey hair at the base of his neck. His coffee was weak, even after being with Mac as long as he had; he hadn't learned how to make proper Marine coffee. He set up the table and everyone came rushing down the stairs into the kitchen. "Well, professor, back to the annals of knowledge are we?" Harm charmed as he sat down next to her.

"Are you going to say that every day this week?" Mac mused and elbowed her husband playfully in the ribs. "How are things over at the Pentagon?"

"We're starting to roll out the new line of aircraft carriers this week. We're finally going to retire Kitty Hawk, Constellation and Big John." Harm cut into his omelette.

"There's the end of a Navy era. Those are the last three carriers to have seen action in Vietnam, aren't they?" Mac sipped her coffee lightly.

"Yeah. The _USS Gerald R. Ford_ is going to be dedicated this week, which means that we had Connie and Kitty to the retirement list. When the _USS George C. Marshall_ comes off the line in two and a half years, we'll retire JFK." Harm took a sip himself. His coffee was certainly getting better, maybe by their fiftieth anniversary, he never knew. Harm mussed his son's hair. "What are you up to today, kiddo?"

"We've got gym class today, it's dodge-ball. I'm going to be the Captain of the Green team." Tommy grinned form behind his glass of orange juice.

"What about you, Sasha, what's going on at school?" Mac looked up at her daughter who had a forkful of omelette on the end of her fork.

"Spelling test after recess, Tim's going to help me study." Sasha finished her breakfast and walked back over to hug her parents before going up to her room to get ready for school. Tim followed in his sister's footsteps a few minutes later.

"Doesn't it worry you that they might be trained just a little too well?" Harm toyed with Mac.

"Just wait until they become teenagers, then you'll be ranting about them being too rebellious." Mac began to play footsie with him under the kitchen table.

"Please, don't bring that up. I was already thinking that Sasha's going to be nine this year. In four years, she'll be thirteen and I'll have forty thousand grey hairs." Harm laughed and ran the tips of his fingers over the grey hairs behind his ear. "I think we're a part of the way there."

"Oh, calm down, Harm." Mac shook her head. "I'm going to take the kids to school today, alright?"

"Yeah, sure." Harm refilled his coffee cup.

"I hear Bobbi's working day and night to get Sturgis the nomination for Vice President. Apparently, she's doing rather well, he's got a lot of strong support among Southern Democrats." Mac shifted topics

"Yeah, who would have figured fifty years ago that it would eventually be Southern Democrats who propelled an African-American to the Vice Presidency?" Harm questioned rhetorically.

"Oh, the times, they are a changin'." Mac sung.

"So, how was breakfast?" Harm questioned.

"Your omelettes, are as always superb." Mac slid her plate into the sink. She walked up to her husband's side and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. He wrapped her in a big hug for a few seconds before they parted. "Love you." Mac whispered.

"Love you, too, babe." Harm grinned at his wife.

Mac walked to the door of the kitchen. "Oh, and Harm, the coffee was pretty damn good, too."

1234 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE SOUTH LAWN

WASHINGTON, DC

The President and his Chief of Staff stopped running for a second. The First Lady caught up with them a few seconds afterward. Gunny was going to curse himself for running in the winter, it was a damn fool of an idea. "Sir, would you care to remind me why we're running outside in the freezing cold rather then inside, on treadmills, in the White House's state of the art gym?"

"Because the dogs needed exercise, Gunny." The President answered. "Besides, the snow provides so good resistance"

"Sir, did anyone tell you that even for a Marine, you're one crazy son of a bitch?" Gunny was having a little trouble catching his breath. He reached into his pocket and produced the vicodin bottle.

"Your lung still giving you trouble, Gunny?" The First Lady stepped alongside the two men.

"Just when I exert myself, ma'am." Gunny winced in his reply. He slid a pill out of the bottle and popped it into his mouth.

"Go easy, Gunny, that's vicodin, they're not skittles." Nicole warned. "They've got hydrocodone in them, that's why there's a high dependency rate."

"Ma'am, trust me that both Doctor Hamilton at GWU and Stacy have reminded me of this time and again. I don't have an addictive personality, don't worry about it." Gunny gave them a quick smile. "On another note, you hear that Adams won New Hampshire?"

"New Hampshire doesn't mean much in the grand scheme of things when it comes the Republicans." The First Lady interjected yet again.

"Honey, just so we're clear, before I answer a question should I get your permission first or can I just jump right in?" The President got slightly sarcastic with his wife.

"Can I help it if I'm a morning person and you're not." The First Lady stuck her tongue out at him playfully. "Gunny, tell the office of Political Affairs to keep tabs on the news on the ground for the Republicans in North Carolina, Florida, Texas, Ohio and California. That should tell you who's got the lead on the nomination. Remember Coles may be polling well and he may have put up good second place challenges both times but he hasn't won a state yet and South Carolina's going to be crucial to his fundraising efforts, he needs to win or come damn close to keep going." Just as the First Lady finished talking, the President dashed behind her and stuffed some snow down the back of her jacket before running back toward the house.

The First Lady began to sprint after her husband, eventually leaping after him and sending him down into the snow. She landed on top of him face to face. "Looks like I caught you." She reached down and stuffed two handfuls of snow down the front of his jacket. "How do you feel now, Mr. President?"

"Cold." The President shivered. He had taken in a handful of snow on his way down and now it was slowly making its way up to his chest. "Gotcha." He said quickly and the First Lady furrowed her brow in confusion. Nate pulled the collar of her jacket forward and slid the snowball down the front.

Gunny cleared his throat. "Sir, I think we'd better head up to the White House now." He chuckled.

"Is it eight o'clock yet, Gunny?" The President got to his feet.

"Still got twenty minutes, sir." Gunny replied.

"Good, I think I'm going to need a shower after this run." Nate wrapped his arm around the Nicole as they walked toward the House. "Before I forget, Gunny, White House senior staff is taking on a new member in wake of the upcoming campaign."

"Who is it, sir?" Gunny grunted his way through the snow.

"Mitchell Kingston, Professor of American Politics at the University of Chicago and the new General Chairman of the Democratic Committee to Re-Elect the President. He'll be in your office at nine o'clock this morning." The President explained.

"I thought Charlie would be running this campaign, sir?" Gunny seemed confused.

"Nah, the Republicans are going to be gunning for the White House. Mitch Kingston grew up in national politics. His grandfather worked for Acheson at the State Department and his dad was the Deputy National Security Advisor for President Carter. Charlie and Morley are the only guys on staff with national campaign experience and they can't do it all by themselves." The President explained. "Plus, if we end up with Andrea Wallace or Sturgis Turner as the Vice President, they're going to need some liaisons from our camp in July an August to give them a little momentum." The group reached the door of the White House and walked inside. Gunny headed for the West Wing and his office while the President and the First Lady headed for the East Wing to dry off and clean up.

Nate still had his arm wrapped around Nicole's waist. "So, my dear, what would you say to a quick tryst in the shower?" He whispered in her ear.

"You're not going to stretch this out with a lot of Victorian language, are you?" The two of them peeled off their jackets, gloves, hats and wet tops. "You've got forty minutes before your first meeting."

"That doesn't give me a lot of time." Nate grinned as Nicole slipped into the bathroom and turned on the warm water of the shower.

1447 ZULU

GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY

WASHINGTON, DC

Mac was rifling through the newspaper on her desk and waiting for her next lecture in an hour. The Washington Post was reporting that Justice Ron Stevenson, a staple of the liberal wing of the Supreme Court was considering retirement. He was getting on in years, his health was beginning to fail and he'd just lost his wife. The Post normally had pretty good sources on this kind of thing, a court clerk or a filing secretary or an executive secretary. The Marble Palace, as the Supreme Court building was called at the White House, was its own little hub of gossip.

She ruffled the newspaper and kept reading. Taking Bernie Malden's chair last year would have been easier for her; Malden was a son of a bitch constructionist. He was a real pain in the ass that was willing to run over the first, fourth, fifth, eight, ninth and fourteenth amendments at any cost. The man was also the biggest 'original intent' hypocrite that anyone had ever met. All the other amendments were supposed to conform to the will of the framers but the second amendment, in every opinion that he had ever written in his twenty-five years on the court had been directed at preventing any constriction on the second amendment.

Hell, ragging on old Bernie Malden wasn't going to help her now. She was procrastinating on writing her book documenting the evolution of rights under the Warren and Burger courts. She was trying to contain what was a generally vitriolic condemnation of President Nixon for appointing Rehnquist, Powell and Burger to the court. She lamented the diminishment of the fierce intellects of John Marshall Harlan II and Felix Frankfurter. Just as she was about to set back to typing, the Dean of the Law School walked into her office.

"How are you, Professor Rabb?" The Dean took a seat across the desk from Mac. "How's the book coming?"

"I'm struggling through the major overturning of justices at the beginning of the Nixon administration. It's pretty easy to criticise Rehnquist, it's tougher with Burger and much tougher with Powell and Blackmun." Mac withdrew her hands from the keys. "I don't mind having good conservative minds on the court, they're essential to keep the discourse alive but you simply cannot compare William Rehnquist to John Marshall Harlan II. Hell, even though Tom Clark was an ornery cuss sometimes, he at least showed some deliberation rather then just being a judicial patsy."

"You know, I was a court clerk during the Warren days." The Dean interjected. "I clerked for Justice Black near the end of the Warren Court. It was amazing to hear the justices talk about Justice Frankfurter after he had left the court. Justice Clark and Justice Harlan understood more about what it was to be a conservative Supreme Court Justice then did all the 'original intent' judicial minds that are a dime a dozen now." Sandra Lord was Dean of the Law School and a former circuit court judge who had been appointed by President Ford.

"What kind of person was Justice Black?" Mac asked, she pulled a tape recorder out of her desk and set it on the table. "You don't mind do you?"

"No, not at all." Sandra answered. "Justice Black was by far the fiercest legal mind I had ever met. How he wavered between being a constructionist and an activist, it was amazing to watch his mind carefully dissect every decision about every possible issue. He was also something of a humanist, I think. When Justice Douglas became more reclusive in his later years, it was only Black and Brennan that were able to get through to him. They were among the few, I think, who actually made the effort."

"Thanks, Sandra." Mac clicked the tap recorder off.

"No problem, Sarah." The Dean nodded. "I came in here to talk to you about the expected vacancy on the court."

"I figured. I was trying to delay you from getting around to it." Mac grinned. "It's the end of an era having Ron Stevenson step down."

"I know that you're going to be on the President's short list to fill the seat if Justice Stevenson steps down. I just wanted to know that you're up to it." Dean Lord crossed her legs.

"You know, I'm not sure I'll know until I put that robe on. I know that the Senate is going to swing hard at me and that the President is going to give me a full-throated defence and the Democrats in the Senate, as well as some of the Republicans I think, will give me a fair shake." Mac was introspective.

"You need any help with the confirmation process, don't hesitate to pick up the phone." The elder woman shook Mac's hand before standing up. "You know, when I offered you this job three years ago, I knew you had a lot of potential. I really hope that they do call you, Sarah. Lord knows Ron Stevenson was a great jurist, but he didn't have one tenth of the potential that you do." With that the older woman left Mac's office and Mac prepared for her 11:30 lecture.

1600 ZULU

THE WEST WING

WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

Mitch Kingston had been one of the youngest tenured professors in the history of the University of Chicago. He'd been a senior advisor to the failed Democratic campaigns against President Russell in 2000 and 2004 and he had advised Nate Ross' bid for the Presidency in 2008. The White House was the big arena for the Democrats, they'd held Congress for forty years from 1954-1994 and they had held it again from 2006 until now. Now, he knew why he was here, Victor Galindez in spite of running a very tight ship at the White House over the last three years had no campaign experience, much less national campaign experience. Charlie Scott and Derek Morley both had national campaign experience from the first campaign and Kat O'Leary had senatorial experience having helped run Miles Cleary's campaign in North Carolina. Of all the White House senior staff, Stacy Anderson had grown up in national politics, just Republican national politics; she was great with the press but the 2012 campaign would test how well she handled an anxious press train.

Of course, perhaps the two most formidable political minds in the entire building belonged to the President and the First Lady. In terms of policy, the President was the superior mind, always well read and never needing to be handled. In terms of strategy, very few minds in the Democratic Party had more acuity then First Lady Nicole Ross. Gunny breezed past Mitch as he entered his office. "Good morning, Mr. Kingston, I'm Victor Galindez, but most people around here just call me 'Gunny'."

"Nice to meet you." Mitch shook his hand. "They just call me 'Mitch'."

"Right, did the President tell you what your job is around here?" Gunny took a seat in his chair.

"Yeah, the DNC appointed me the General Chairman of the Committee to Re-Elect." Mitch replied. "The President told me that I was here to work on campaign strategy."

"That's right. You will be consulted on the political strategy effects of all decisions made by the Executive office. You can sit down with the Morley and Kat when it comes to communications policy and Charlie when it comes to the White House Office of Political Affairs. You are not a the Deputy Chief of Staff for Legislative Affairs or an intermediary between the White House and Congress, that's Charlie Scott's job." Gunny pointed out. "Other then that, you've got full use of the resources of the White House and the Democratic National Committee for the purposes of winning this election."

"Understood. I'm going to need unfettered access to the President." Mitch leapt in.

"Not acceptable. We may be running for re-election but the business of running the country comes first. Before you take anything to him, you take it to me or to Charlie. We'll tell you if it should continue up the ladder, that way we keep the bozo stuff off his desk." Gunny argued.

"I'm telling you, Gunny, the only campaigns I've ever lost are ones where I didn't have direct access to the candidate. They were campaigns where he didn't hear what I needed to tell him." Mitch replied.

"At any given moment, Mr. Kingston, there are seventy things which could feasibly wind up on the President's desk and yes, some of them are going to take priority over his re-election. My job is to prioritize what goes through that door." Gunny pointed to the door in his office that led to the Oval. "Meetings with NSC top that list right along with natural disasters and major reforms of domestic policy. Sometimes, poll numbers can wait."

"I need an office in the West Wing." Mitch pressed. "Re-election might not be top priority around here but the President _is_ running which tells me he wants a second term. I need to have access to senior staff in order to see that he gets one."

"No problem, I'll move a speechwriter into the OEOB and have an office for you by this afternoon." Gunny nodded and the phone rang on his desk. "Gunny." He nodded a few times and made a few scribbles on the yellow legal pad in front of him. "Thank you." Gunny hung up the phone. "Justice Stevenson is coming here this evening to hand his resignation to the President."

"That's huge; Stevenson is the second longest serving justice in American history. Anyone the President has in mind to put on the court?" Kingston got out of his seat and followed Gunny into the bullpen.

"I've got a good idea as to whom." Gunny nodded, he ducked his head into Charlie's office. "Charlie, call up the Chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee, tell him that Justice Stevenson is going to hand his resignation to the President at 5pm today. Then get three people on the phone for our short list."

"Sure, boss, who should I get on the list?" Charlie asked.

"Just Professor Rabb for now. I'm going to talk to the President now; I'll have two more names for you in about twenty minutes." Gunny thought for a second. "This is Mitch Kingston, he'll be working with you on re-election and he'll be working out of here today until I can free up some office space."

"Alright, Gunny." Charlie nodded and welcomed the visitor into his office. Gunny doubled back toward the Oval Office. The President loved making recommendations for the Supreme Court, as President it was one way of assuring that some part of your legacy continued on into the future through a part of the government that tackled constitutional issues on an everyday basis. Gunny had walk-in privileges, something that only he and the First Lady were privy to.

"Sir, I've got news." Gunny walked in to see the President behind his desk going over the latest OPEC policy.

"So, do I, I want to do something about alternative energy, damn it." The President got up out of his chair.

"Sir, right now, ethanol is going to have to take a backseat to the Supreme Court." Gunny jumped in. "At 5pm, Justice Stevenson is going to be here to hand you his resignation. I already told Charlie to put Mac on the short list; I figured that we should float a few more names too."

"Give them Dan Robitoff and Colin Murphy." The President didn't even need to think about it. "The Republicans on the committee hear that I'm considering nominating Dan Robitoff and they'll go completely nuts."

"Sir, isn't Judge Robitoff the former San Francisco District Attorney that now sits on the Federal Circuit in Northern California?" Gunny was double checking.

"Yeah." The President nodded.

"You're right, sir. The Republicans will have a stroke." Gunny turned and headed went to head out of the office. "Anything else, sir?"

"Yeah, have the Secretaries of Energy and Agriculture in my office around 3pm, okay?" The President ordered. "And how did your meeting go with Kingston?"

"Just fine, sir. I'm sure he'll fit in fine around here." Gunny nodded at the President before heading back to his office. He took a seat in the chair and pressed the button to place a call. "Rachel," he called his assistant, "get me Professor Rabb at George Washington University."

1727 ZULU

GEORGE WASHINGTON UNIVERSITY

WASHINGTON, DC

"Professor, you have a message from someone named Potus." Mac's assistant rushed out into the hallway.

"Potus?" Mac furrowed her brow.

"Yes, professor, P-O-T-U-S, that's what I was told." The assistant replied.

"That's not his name, it's his job title." Mac figured it out as they walked into her office. "You received a call from the office of the President of the United States."

"Really, ma'am, any idea what this is about?" Her assistant asked.

"A small one." Mac nodded. Mac closed the door to her office and walked over to her desk. She picked up the phone and cradled it between her cheek and her clavicle. She punched the number of the White House and waited for the White House switchboard to patch her through to Gunny's office.

"Gunny." The familiar voice on the other end of the phone answered.

"Gunny, Mac here." Mac started. "You called? I was in a lecture."

"How's the book on the Warren and Burger courts coming?" Gunny decided to start with the small talk.

"Good, I think I've changed the title a half a dozen times but it's good. Did you call to make small talk about my book?" Mac hated small talk.

"No, ma'am, I just wanted to tell you that if you were to drop by the White House around 1730 tonight, the President would greatly appreciate it." Gunny stated cryptically. "The President wants to have a meeting with you and another senior legal advisor on the future of social advances in America."

"Alright, he wants a Professor from George Washington University to talk to him about what? Abortion? Gay Marriage? Capital Punishment?" Mac still seemed confused.

"Just trust me, ma'am, you're going to want to be here at 1730 to meet with the President." Gunny sighed. "I can't really say any more."

"Alright, Gunny." Mac nodded. "Anything else?"

"No, ma'am." Gunny hung up the phone. He loved the end of winter at the White House. After the State of the Union address, which had been a particular success this year. The Era of fear was over, the President had told the nation, government was something that brought people together not stood in their way. The President hearkened back to the era of Roosevelt, completely throwing to the ditch the era of Reagan. For Gunny it was a much larger shift in mindset. The President was shifting from the more Jacksonian nature of the first campaign, the kind of Truman, Johnson, Salt of the Earth kind of campaign. The President was transitioning into his mould. He was much more patrician, much more like the strong leader that everyone wanted him to be. Damn it, Gunny was glad that this was happening _before_ the re-election campaign.

Gunny got the pill bottle out of his jacket pocket and popped a pill out of the bottle and slid it into his mouth. He slid the bottle back into his pocket and headed out of his office into the bullpen. "I love February, you know why I love February, Stacy?" Gunny asked as he looped his arm through hers as the two of them walked through the bullpen.

"No idea, Gunny, why do you like February?" She was smiling.

"Because the budget round is over, because the State of the Union is over, because the Republicans are out on the campaign trail taking each other's heads off, so, no one expects us to barnstorm until April and we're about to pack the court." Gunny was chuckling. "It's a good day, it's a great day.

"You're tempted to smack my ass in celebration right now, aren't you?" Stacy flirted lightly.

"Little bit, yeah." Gunny chuckled. "I'm about to sit in on a meeting that the President has with the Secretaries of Energy and Agriculture to develop and alternative energy strategy. I've been tempted to call in the Secretary of Commerce; we need a way of working this into the market."

"Who's the Secretary of Commerce, now? We've had what like five this term?" Stacy mused.

"Three, but your point is well understood, they do seem to be going through a revolving door." The two of them got to the door of her office.

"I've only gotten two questions so far today from the press. One, does the President have any preference for who wins the Republican nomination. Two, does the White House have any comment about the possible resignation of Justice Stevenson?" Stacy plunked down in her chair.

"One, the White House does not have a preference for who wins the Republican nomination. The President looks forward to a positive and informative discourse with what ever candidate the Republicans choose. Two, we have no comment on a possible resignation of any Supreme Court Justice." Gunny replied.

"That's all you have to say?" Stacy pushed.

"That's it." Gunny nodded. The Press Secretary had the third toughest job in the building after only the President and Gunny because you had to be kept out of the loop a lot to avoid lying to the press. You had to have someone who was willing to look like a fool.

2159 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

Justice Ron Stevenson was ninety-one years old and in spite of his age, he was still very well spoken and very spry. He walked right through the outer office with his head clerk by his side. "The President was expecting you, sir." Gunny greeted the Justice. "Right this way, sir." Gunny pushed the door open and Justice Stevenson stepped inside followed by Gunny.

"Ron, nice to see you." The President walked across the office and shook the hand of the Justice.

"Mr. President." The Associate Justice greeted. "It's nice to see you again, sir."

"First time since the Inauguration, if memory serves." Nate motioned toward the couches indicating that they should sit.

"Mr. President, I have something for you." The elder jurist drew his hand inside for his breast pocket. "I feel that the time is right to hand over my resignation, effective upon the confirmation of my replacement."

"As President of the United States, I accept." Nate extended his hand. "As a Democrat, Ron, I say that this is the end of an era. I wish I could put nine justices just like you on the Supreme Court, Ron, I really do."

"You'd try too, wouldn't you, sir?" The old justice laughed.

"I'd fight tooth and nail for them." Nate chuckled. "Do you have any thoughts on who you'd want to replace you?"

"I do, but I suspect that you know at least two of them." Justice Stevenson mused. "Sarah Rabb and Daniel Robitoff."

"The Republicans in the Senate would freak if I put Daniel Robitoff in front of them. He makes Bill Douglas look like Bill Rehnquist." Nate was grinning from ear to ear. "You think Professor Rabb's enough of a Brennan protégé to fill your shoes?"

"I think that the second she puts on her robe for the first time and takes a look at the Constitution, she'll understand her role on the Supreme Court. I've read her papers, she's ready." Justice Stevenson bowed his head.

"Mr. President, she's here." Gunny said from the door to the office.

"Send her in, Gunny." The President nodded. Gunny opened the door and Mac came walking in.

"Mac, you look good." The President smiled and hugged his friend.

"Thank you, sir." She gave him a hug.

"Sarah Rabb, allow me to introduce you to Justice Ronald Earle Stevenson." The President made introductions and the two of them shook hands.

"Nice to meet you, young lady." The old jurist greeted.

"And you, sir."

"Mac, do you know what Justice Stevenson just told me?" The President started. "He just expressed to me his desire to resign from the Supreme Court. Both he and I seem to concur that you would be the ideal person to fill his chair."

"Thank you, sir." Even with all the speculation from the Washington Post, Mac hadn't really expected it.

"You realize, young lady, that by sitting in my chair, you would be occupying a chair once held not only by Justice William O. Douglas but also Louis Brandeis?" He was showing a small grin.

"Yes, sir, I do. And I understand the legacy that I would inherit from them and you and I hope that I can live up to that." Mac grinned.

"You believe in a constitutional right to privacy?" The President asked.

"I absolutely do." Mac nodded.

"Do you believe that the Constitution is a living document that must grow as does our democracy?" Justice Stevenson pressed.

"I have always believed that, sir." Mac affirmed.

"Good enough for me." The President pat his legs. "Let's go to the briefing room and tell the world." The four of them got up and headed for the door that lead from the Oval Office into the Chief of Staff's office and from there into the bullpen. Stacy had already called the White House Press Corps into the Briefing Room. They stood outside for a second. "Is my tie straight?" The President turned toward Mac.

"Yeah." She nodded.

"What about mine?" Justice Stevenson asked.

"Nope, here, let me see what I can do." Mac leaned down to adjust the jurist's tie. Justice Stevenson winked at Nate who just laughed.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States." Stacy introduced and the President led the party of four into the Press Briefing Room. The President stood behind the podium.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I have spent the last forty-five minutes speaking with Justice Ronald Earle Stevenson of the United States Supreme Court. Justice Stevenson handed me his resignation. It is with a heavy heart that I accept it. Justice Stevenson is a judicial monument in this country, the likes of which we have not seen since Earl Warren, Hugo Black or William J. Brennan and that we hope to see again. After consulting with White House senior staff, members of the Senate, Justice Stevenson himself and my own conscience, I have selected a candidate to fill the enormous void that Justice Stevenson is sure to leave. In doing this, I will submit to the Senate for advice and consent the nomination of Professor Sarah Rabb to the United States Supreme Court." The President concluded. "Thank you, I'll take questions now."

2304 ZULU

ANNA'S APARTMENT

FOGGY BOTTOM, WASHINGTON DC

She had picked him up from work and they had driven back to her apartment. Thank God it wasn't far. The snow outside complimented the atmosphere well. Their clothes were wet as they peeled them off on their way into the apartment. He had picked her up by the waist and tossed her on to the bed.

That was an hour ago. An hour later, the two of them lay on the bed. Her head on his chest, her fingers dancing lazy circles over his pectorals. Anna and Sergei, everyone who knew them would certainly say it was about time they got together.


	40. My Glory Was I Had Such Friends

Mac walked into the Roosevelt Room with Sandra Lord, the Dean of George Washington University Law School and soon to be her former boss. Charlie and Kat were sitting there waiting for her with at least three stacks of paper that were nine inches high. "This is what vetting is for judicial nominees?" Mac gazed at the papers. "Do you guys do this with everyone you put on the federal bench?"

"Just the Supreme Court." Kat's face was buried in an amicus brief. "I'll be handling your confirmation from the White House, ma'am. Up until the Senate hearings, we're going to go over everything that they could possibly whack you with in the confirmation hearings and you know that the Republicans are going to come after you."

"I expect that some of the Democrats are going to be coming after me on a few things, too." Mac humoured as she sat down. "What are we going to start with?"

"Anything in your personal life that they could hit you with." Kat scribbled a few things down on her yellow legal pad. The President walked into the room at that moment and everyone got to their feet.

"I know that I'm not supposed to be here, because I was supposed to be in a meeting in the Mural Room with my Far East advisors about ten minutes ago." The President walked over and put his hands on Mac's shoulders. "Give'em hell, Mac, you hear me? You don't back down a single inch from this challenge and I promise you, Mac, that I will dig in my heels and put the full weight of this White House behind you."

"Thank you, sir." Mac nodded. She shook the President's hand quickly before he turned to leave the room. "Semper Fi, Mr. President."

"Semper Fi, Mac." The President called through the door as he headed off down the hall.

"Alright, Professor, if you would take a seat, we can get right down to it." Kat indicated and Mac took a seat, her confirmation advisor next to her.

"Alright, it says here that in 1999 you were charged with Murder in the shooting death of your husband Christopher Ragle, is that correct?" Kat looked up from the paper in front of her.

"I was acquitted of that charge, the shooting was ruled self-defence." Mac answered.

"You were also charged with perjury subsequent to testimony you delivered at trial is that correct?" Kat pressed.

"I was, it was ruled that I had not in fact perjured myself but omitted facts about which I was never questioned. Non-judicial punishment was handed down." Mac answered comfortable.

"And that non-judicial punishment was?" Kat gazed over the top of her reading glasses.

"I had a letter for accelerated promotion removed from my record. The letter was subsequently readmitted after exceptional job performance on a subsequent fit rep." Mac informed her examiner.

"Your Commanding Officer at the time was the current Secretary of Defence?" Kat pressed.

"It was." Mac affirmed.

"Turning to another matter, you were appointed to the Military Court of Appeals in 2003?" Kat continued.

"Yes, I was appointed on the recommendation of the Navy Judge Advocate General and the Commandant of the Marine Corps." Mac answered, taking a deep breath.

"In _United States v. Irwin_, a case which appeared before the court in October of 2004, you delivered the opinion for the majority which stated, and I quote: 'the punishment of death cannot be handed down arbitrarily which the presiding authority has done in this matter. Defence counsel has presented three separate cases of precedent wherein, a defendant in similar circumstances, was given life imprisonment. It is the opinion of the court that this sentence and not the sentence of death is the appropriate one.' Professor Rabb, are you opposed to the Death Penalty?" Kat set the opinion down in front of her.

"I believe strongly, that the Death Penalty fails the American Justice system on any number of levels, the first of which is that it violates eighth amendment protections against cruel and unusual punishment. Second, there is no conclusive evidence that the death penalty is a deterrent, in fact a study in Texas where the Death Penalty is a prevalent influence on justice, showed that even as the percentage of executions in Texas increased against the national average, the instances of murder and violent crime did not decrease and in fact, they increased. Finally, DNA evidence has created a world where dozens of death row convictions have been over turned, if the system is not perfect then the punishments must be less absolute then death." Mac answered and both Charlie and Dr. Lord leaned back in their chairs, very impressed.

1614 ZULU

THE WEST WING

WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

Gunny stared down at the empty pill bottle in his hand. He rolled it around slowly in his hand before letting it slip from his hand into the wastebasket. He shuffled the basket under his desk and stared at the computer screen. He had to write a position paper on the President's new alternative energy policy, he rubbed his eyes and continued to punch away at the keys in vain hopes of getting this done by noon because there were more important things to do today then put out a position paper.

Stacy didn't even knock upon entering his office; she just waltzed right in and threw herself down on the couch. "I can't deal with them today, the press feels this incessant need to hound me." She complained.

"Any chance that could be because you're the _Press Secretary_?" Gunny questioned from behind his desk.

"I always suspected that had something to do with it." She giggled. "Larry Burke won the South Carolina Republican Primary."

"By fifty-four votes, I heard." Gunny kicked back in his chair. "There were two recounts; they were counting until two in the morning. A close race in South Carolina will keep Coles' fundraising up though."

"Next week is a big one; they've got Alabama, Arizona, Arkansas, Delaware, Missouri, New Jersey, New Mexico, North Carolina, North Dakota, Oklahoma, Utah and West Virginia." Stacy mused. "It's not their Super Tuesday; we have to wait for March 4th for that."

"Yeah, but next week is certainly stacked in Burke's favour. Coles has a chance in Delaware, New Jersey, New Mexico, North Carolina and West Virginia and that's it. Burke's going to build a lot of momentum." Gunny grunted as he stood up out of the chair.

"Yeah, but after that, there are a few moderate states before Super Tuesday, Coles could slow him down. I think Adams drops out if he can't pick up a state next week." Stacy crossed her legs. "I think he's more likely to endorse Coles."

"To the Republicans, New Hampshire really doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things electorally. Adams could support Coles or Burke and it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference. The Republicans have their clash of the titans happening now, which makes no sense because if I were going up against the President, I would want the least bloodied nominee that I could get." Gunny collected his papers and walked toward the door. "I've got a meeting with the V.A. and then a meeting with the Directors of FBI and ATF and if that isn't bad enough I need to check up on the vetting of Justice Rabb when I get back."

"Sounds like a full day." Stacy sprung up off the couch to her feet.

"It is." Gunny nodded. "What have we got tonight?"

"I don't know, it's up to you." Stacy went to walk through the door. "Weren't you released from my custody last week?"

"Technically, yes. What's your point?" Gunny crossed his arms.

"Nothing big, just wanted to know what you were doing still hanging around." She had a cute grin on her face.

"Someone's subletting my apartment until the end of March, I didn't figure you'd notice if I decided to hang around. Besides, you have a guest room." Gunny stepped slightly closer to her.

"So, you're just going to be at my apartment until the whistle-stop tour starts in April?" Stacy raised her eyebrow as they moved out into the bullpen.

"Yeah, I've earned it. I did get shot remember." Gunny pointed to his gut with a quick laugh.

"Trust me, not going to forget that any time soon." Stacy suddenly became more sombre.

"Talk to you before the lid at the five o'clock briefing?" Gunny put on his overcoat.

"Yeah, be careful on your way over to V.A. and Justice would you, it's cold outside." Stacy's arms dropped to her sides.

"I'll try not to smack around the A.G. too much." Gunny chuckled as he headed for the door.

1754 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

The table in the Roosevelt Room was littered with cartons from the local Chinese food place as Kat, Sandra and Mac took a break from the grilling that they were preparing her for when the Senate Judiciary Committee began to hear her nomination in March. As they finished eating, Kat slid her cartons to one side and then glanced down at the paper in front of her and pinched her nose. "Professor Rabb, you're writing a book about the evolution civil liberties over the period of the 1960s and 1970s. In your chapter on _Griswold v. Connecticut_ you state that Justice Douglas' opinion marked quote 'the beginning of an age wherein the personal sexual habits of consenting adults would no longer be the business of the federal government or any government. The courage of the Warren Court emblazoned the words 'the Right to Privacy shall not be infringed upon the scrolls of American jurisprudence.' Professor Rabb, upon reading the constitution I fail to find the words 'right to privacy' , where do you find it, Professor?"

"Well, I would say that that right to privacy is woven throughout the Constitution; it's prevalent in the first, third, fourth, fifth, ninth and fourteenth amendments. The first amendment guarantees that the government cannot infringe on your right to belief and thought which would cover the privacy of the mind. The third amendment guarantees against government presence in private quarters, so therein would be the privacy of the home from government intrusion. The fourth amendment prevents the government from conducting unreasonable and intrusive searches of your personal self, which would create a right to personal privacy against government intrusion. The Fifth Amendment creates a protection which allows one to withhold information from authorities in order to prevent one from disclosing information which could possibly incriminate oneself, which is legal privacy. The Ninth Amendment, states specifically that the people retain certain rights not enumerated previously in the constitution and it's present in the Fourteenth Amendment in the equal protection clause." Mac took a deep breath.

Kat's eyebrows flew up in surprise. "That was impressive, Professor." She chuckled. "You want to move on to school prayer?"

"You want me to quote the Establishment Clause at you?" Mac gulped down her glass of water.

"Want to move on to gay marriage?" Kat pressed.

"I can quote the equal protection clause at you again." Mac mused.

"Okay." Kat put her head in her hands. "You do realize that in the next seven weeks, we're going to spend a lot of time in here going over every possible wrinkle in your personal life and every judicial opinion you ever wrote. Every piece of legal history, every article, basically anything legal you ever wrote?"

"I'm ready for it if you are." Mac grinned.

"Alright, along with the hard stuff, the judiciary committee is going to lob one or two softballs at you. These kinds of questions can usually be knocked out of the park but if you trip up, it can work its way into the news cycle and become a larger issue." Kat tapped her pen on the table.

"Okay, can you give me an example?" Mac leaned forward.

"Well, when Justice Lazio was confirmed, they asked him who his favourite four justices of all time were." Kat scanned her memory for a few more.

"You know I've got a few I could answer." Mac thought for a second. She couldn't possibly get tripped up by a question this easy could she?

"Well, there's actually a formula that we've worked out for this. You name two justices who were in tune with your own judicial philosophy, one moderate and one from the other side of judicial philosophy." Kat coached.

"Alright, well, if we're going with that formula, I suppose I would say Justices William J. Brennan and Thurgood Marshall from my own philosophy. As for a moderate, I would say Justice Hugo Black and for a conservative I would say either Justice John Marshall Harlan II or Felix Frankfurter." Mac shook her head. "Does the President know your trying to do this by template, I think he'd prefer if I were just myself."

"Professor, with all due respect, I think the President would just prefer to have you on the court. If doing that requires courting a few moderate Republicans on the Senate Judiciary Committee and on the Senate floor, I think he'd do it that way." Kat answered. "Your answers are all very good and they'll get seventy-five votes on the Senate floor, I'm just trying to get you over eighty votes without appealing to the women's factor."

"Women's factor?" Mac looked slightly confused.

"Women make up 51 of the voting population, Sarah. Female Supreme Court Justices are a notoriously good way of getting the backing of the women's lobby. The Republicans fought Rita Hearn's nomination last year to the tune of a 63-37 vote to confirm. If the Republicans have something to hang their hat on, it won't look like they were voting to pander to the women's lobby. It works the same way with the Democrats, why do you think Ronald Reagan nominated Sandra Day O'Connor? Someone as viciously pro-life as Reagan would have never normally nominated a pro-choice justice but he did." Kat huffed. "I just don't want to make this a gender issue."

"I never knew that there was so much politics involved in this." Mac shook her head with disappointment.

"The Supreme Court is the single most political institution in Washington D.C. and never let anyone tell you any different." Kat moved on to the last stack of papers. "You know what? Let's just move on to hate crimes legislation."

"I don't believe in it." Mac replied. "A crime is a crime no matter who committed it or why they committed it or who they committed it against. An extra five years in prison because the person you victimized was black instead of white is not the intention of the fourteenth amendment. I support protections against domestic terrorism, which is what the KKK practices, I do not support the government's right to prosecute you based on what you think which is what 'hate crimes' are."

"I think we found something for the Republicans to hang their hat on." Sandra Lord eyed the White House staffer across the table.

"Now, how do we get them to ask the question?" Kat pondered aloud.

1851 ZULU

OPNAVS MAIN OFFICE

WASHINGTON NAVY YARD

It was a meeting of the nation's three most powerful Naval officers. Thirty years ago when they were plebes at Annapolis, no one ever would have envisioned that these three would be in this position. Now, Admiral Ethan Baxter, Chief of Naval Operations sat behind his large oaken desk. Behind him on the wall was a map showing the location of every United States Naval vessel on the planet and every Naval Air Station around the world.

Sitting across from Admiral Baxter was Admiral Harmon Rabb Jr., the Vice Chief of Naval Operations. In the last four years, Admiral Rabb had gone from one star to four. A lot of this was due to a considerably high retirement rate among senior Naval Officers. It was also due, in large part, to the fact that the civilian leadership of the Department of Defence, namely the President and Secretary of Defence, trusted his counsel.

The door opened to the office and in walked the third officer that was required to be at today's meeting. Admiral Sturgis Turner was the Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and a candidate for the Democratic nomination for Vice President. In the last few weeks, he'd become the flavour of the month, he could be the first African American to appear on the ticket of a major party. "The prodigal son returneth." Harm joked as Sturgis took a seat.

"If I have to shake one more hand in California, Texas, New York, Pennsylvania or Illinois, I'm going to take a pre-emptive swing at someone." Sturgis shook his head.

"They're five of the biggest states in the union, buddy." Bax mused. "So, we're here to talk about the _Ford_ class aircraft carriers, right?"

"Yes we are. The Navy is set to roll out the new carriers starting with the _USS Gerald R. Ford_, there's going to be a lot of pomp and circumstance and one of us is going to have to be there with the President to christen the carrier." Harm gave the armrests of his chair a quick pat. "Any takers?"

"I'll do it." Sturgis volunteered.

"Of course you'll do it." Bax chuckled. "The christening of a carrier goes on live over ZNN and MSNBC, especially when it's dedicated to a former President and the President is delivering the address. You want to be as close to the President as you can to make it look like he's supporting you for the VP nod."

"Yeah, Sturgis, I hear Bobbi's going all out with State party chairs to try and get you on the ticket. So far, you've got Michigan and Virginia. You could tell the Georgia delegation that you were born there, Sturgis. They're going to find out anyway." Harm leaned his head on his hand.

"Yeah, well, I think at this moment if I limit the amount of States that Bobbi's going to make me travel to, I'll be better off. We're already skipping over Washington, Iowa and Florida because those are the home states of the other candidates. I'll never understand why we're skipping Florida, you'd think they would have a lot of conservative Democrats." Sturgis laughed. "So, we're all together on the dedication of the _Ford?_"

"Yeah, well, them's the breaks, kid." Bax laughed. "What do we do now?"

"We could discuss our forward carriers over lunch down the street at Calhoun's?" Harm suggested as he got to his feet.

"Sounds like a good idea to me." Bax rose out of his chair.

"Just don't put it down on the Navy credit card, okay? The last thing I need hanging over my head when I talk about foreign policy in Kansas City next weekend is that me, or one of my friends and top aides, decided it was a good idea to charge a two hundred dollar lunch to the Navy dime." Sturgis dusted off his pants before joining his friends.

"Two hundred bucks!" Harm protested somewhat shocked.

"I guess that means we're splitting the cheque." Bax mused as the three of them headed for the door and out of the office.

2039 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

Mac was rubbing her temples. "Do we have to go through this again?" She groaned.

"Sorry, ma'am, I know this is tough but we have to go through every possible question that the Senate Judiciary Committee could possibly ask." Kat ruffled the papers on the table. "Now, did we go through abortion?"

"Yes!" Mac and Sandra shouted. "Twice." Mac supplemented. "My answer was the same both times. I'm sure if we go through it this time, my answer will still be the same."

"Alright, we've covered abortion, capital punishment, right to privacy, gay rights, school prayer, intelligent design, hate crimes, domestic terrorism, free speech and the right to bear arms. At this moment, I cannot think of anything else that the Judiciary Committee could possibly question you on; which is either good because there is nothing else or bad because there is and it's big and I've forgotten what it is." Kat intertwined her fingers behind her head.

"Fraternization." Sandra stepped in.

"Oh," Kat covered her mouth, "I can't believe I forgot fraternization. That's what first kicked up a storm with the Senate Armed Services Committee a couple of years ago." Kat shuffled through the papers on the table again. "Alright, Professor Rabb, one of your most well stated and well quoted opinions is on fraternization in the military, namely _US v. Cordeiro _in which the U.S. 4th Circuit Court of Appeals in the Eastern District of Virginia ruled that the limits on what constituted Fraternization. Professor Rabb, were this issue to come before the court, how would you vote?"

"Well, I would say that the restrictions against fraternizations are antiquated without a doubt and certainly not construed in any manner amenable to certain truths of modern military life. However, fraternization is a regulation in the UCMJ and will remain as such until Congress passes a law changing it, as they did with 'don't ask, don't tell'. The Court does have the power to tell to tell the Executive or Congress when its measures have violated the Constitution, it does not have any power to change a law where the institution of the Court has no standing." Mac crossed her legs under the table. "I'd like to change the law, but doing so is not within the power of the court."

"That was a remarkably good answer." Kat pinched the bridge of her nose. "I keep thinking I'm missing a big topic though."

"Birth control." Professor Lord prompted.

"Right." Kat scribbled a quick note.

"I thought the court settled that in _Griswold v. Connecticut_ back in 1965?" Mac questioned.

"Yeah, but this is a slightly different question and it's going to come up because Larry Burke is ahead in the Republican primaries and a few Republican Senators are going to want to make points with their party's prospective nominee." Kat explained. "Professor Rabb, if a case were to appear before the court appealing a ban on contraceptive distribution and contraceptive education in public schools, how would you rule on such an issue?"

"I would say that in a _public_ school, prohibition of the distribution of contraceptives violates a clear violation of the right to privacy as it did in _Griswold v. Connecticut_ in 1965. If the imposition of such a ban is due to a religious objection then it also violates the establishment clause of the constitution. No student is forced to receive a contraceptive if they have any objection to doing so. Moreover, with recent studies showing that 95 percent of Americans engage in pre-marital sex, it poses an unnecessary public health concern to not educate our children about the dangers of sexually transmitted diseases and unexpected pregnancy. Abstinence is the best way of preventing the spread of these things but it is no longer the only way and to teach that it is, is socially irresponsible and a violation of the right to privacy." Mac answered with a level head.

"Alright, Professor Rabb, thank you. We're done with questioning, now. There are just a few more things. Since I'm handling your confirmation, you need to check in with me everyday. If you're going to be out of the immediate Maryland-Virginia-Pennsylvania area, we need to know where you are. Midway through next month, Senator Houlihan from Vermont is the Chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee is going to convene the committee to question you. This process can take one hearing or it can take three weeks of hearings." Kat got to her feet. "Until then, have some fun, keep educating our young people and sayonara, I guess." Kat shook Mac's hand.

"Thanks, Kat." Mac watched as the young White House staffer turned and headed out of the room. "Could that have been any tougher?" Mac turned to the woman who was still her boss for the next month.

"You think that was tough? Wait until you go before the Senate." Sandra gave her a light pat on the back. "Come on, let's get an early dinner at Sorentino's, I'll buy."

2344 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Mac walked into the house as shook off her coat. "Is that my daughter-in-law?" Trish came walking out of the kitchen with oven mitts on and an apron around her waist.

"Hey, Trish!" Mac smiled as she kicked off her shoes. She gave her mother-in-law a quick hug. "How were the Barbados?"

"Well apparently, I went down to the Caribbean and when I came back, you were a Supreme Court nominee." Trish chuckled. "So, how were your lectures today?"

"I didn't have lectures today, I had to sit through the vetting process at the White House today." Mac and Trish walked into the kitchen together. "Hamburger Helper for the kids?"

"Yeah." Trish continued to stir the sauce in. "So, what's vetting?"

Mac stuck her finger into the pot and sampled some of the sauce. "Vetting is a process wherein the White House digs out your FBI file and goes through every seedy tidbit from your past and asks you about it to make sure that nothing the Senate asks takes you by surprise. Then, in my case, they gather together all my judicial opinions and legal writings and they have one staffer sit down with you and they pick apart everything you've ever written, they extrapolate and interpret and prepare you for word to word combat on the Senate floor."

"Sounds a bit like being flayed alive, dear." Trish chuckled slightly.

"Oh, trust me, it is." Mac laughed in a somewhat self-deprecating way. "The worst part about it is that for the next few weeks, I need to let the White House know where I am if I'm not in Maryland, Virginia or Pennsylvania." She rolled her eyes.

"It sounds like quite the ordeal, dear." Trish muttered.

"I'm noticing a certain lack of empathy, Trish." Mac pointed out.

"Well, I'm sorry dear but you wanted a seat on the court and this is the price you pay. Considering that you could have the job for forty years, make a six figure salary and hand out rulings that would affect the country for the next century or more, I think it's a comparatively small price to pay." Trish turned off the oven and let out a loud whistle to call the kids into the kitchen. "Sarah, dear, as an Associate Justice for the United States Supreme Court you would be an extraordinary to not just your daughter but also thousands of young women all over the country. Just endure the few weeks of totalitarianism, dear."

"You're a very wise woman, you know that?" Mac mused.

"Well of course, dear. I'm a Grandmother." Trish grinned as the kids came running into the kitchen. Mac kissed each of her kids on top of the head and sat down to the table with her kids and Trish.

"Where's Frank?" Mac asked, looking down the table at Trish.

"At Chrysler's local head office trying to find a way around the latest lobbying bill. The President's new alternative energy plan is going to eat into their profit margins." Trish delicately moved the food around on her plate. "Still he's a good man and a strong leader."

"He can be a bit fussy from time to time and he holds on principle when it comes to pretty much everything." Mac giggled.

"I guess that's why he and Harm get along." Trish mused.

"Yeah, except the only thing that the two of them agree on is the use of American military force. Outside of that, you should see the two of them argue about pretty much everything else." Mac rolled her eyes. At that moment, the door opened and Harm walked in. The kids got up out of their chairs and rushed to the door to meet their father. Mac and Trish just grinned to themselves. Harm walked into the kitchen and over to the table.

"Evenin' honey." Mac greeted.

"Madam Justice." Harm replied with a nod.

"That turns you on, doesn't it?" Mac flirted.

"Only if you're going to wear the robe." Harm kissed her on the cheek as he took his seat at the table.

"Harmon!" Trish looked shocked. "The children are in the other room."

"Okay, it's not like I said what I hoped she was wearing under the robe, mom." Harm held a maniacal grin on his face as he took his wife's hand.

2415 ZULU

THE OVAL OFFICE

WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

The President clenched his fist around the pill bottle that Stacy had handed to him a few seconds earlier. "You're sure about this? Because I really don't want to piss of my Chief of Staff if I don't have to." He looked up at his Press Secretary.

"I'm absolutely sure, sir." She nodded solemnly.

"Because he's going to be in here any moment. I really don't want to piss off my Chief of Staff six weeks before we kick off a re-election campaign. That would be like pissing him off before the State of the Union. This place doesn't run properly unless both Gunny and I are at 100 percent." The President sat on the edge of his desk. He stared blankly at the picture of President Truman he had put up on the opposing wall.

"Has Gunny been at 100 percent lately, sir?" Stacy questioned rhetorically.

"I wanted to give him a break, he'd been shot, I figured that he earned one." The President's gaze drifted to his feet. Stacy nodded. The door into the Oval from the Chief of Staff's office opened and Gunny walked in. Nate looked up to face his Chief of Staff.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Gunny questioned. The President raised his hand to show Gunny the pill bottle. The Chief of Staff's gaze drifted immediately to Stacy, his portraying an ice cold air of betrayal.

"Don't come down on her, all she did was hand me the pill bottle. I was the one who called around and found out the story. First off, I'd like to ask what the hell you were thinking? Everyone told you these pills were addictive, if you were having problems, you could have gone to anyone of us and we would have helped. Second, do you realize the kind of exposure you've opened this White House up to? If I found this out after a few phone calls, how tough do you think it would be for the Republicans to do it if they wanted to? There isn't a political advisor in this country who wouldn't tell me to fire your ass right now." The President kept a clam head.

"Why don't you, sir?" Gunny charged, his emotion welling to the surface in a torrent.

"Because you're my friend, one of my best friends and you've earned a hell of a lot more from me then that." Nate paused. "Damn it, Gunny, you know how this works."

"Yes, I do, sir." Gunny set his jaw firm and nodded hard. "And as your Chief of Staff, I would tell you that the worst thing that you could do in an election year is cover this up. You'll have my resignation on your desk by morning." He went to turn toward his office. "You know what, sir? You never expect it to happen to you. When I took those bullets, I was sure that I was going to die and I know that you and Stacy and Morley stayed with me as long as you could. I shouldn't have come back until I was sure I was up to it, sir. I apologize for putting the White House in this position, I'll hand my resignation to you at 0800 tomorrow morning."

"Gunny, that's not…" The President started but the Chief of Staff angrily shut the door between their two offices. "…necessary. He's going to regret that at 0800 tomorrow when he realizes that I'm not accepting his resignation and he still works here."

"Yes, sir." Stacy nodded. "Should I go after him?"

"No, give him a few minutes to be alone and think." The President counselled. "When you do go after him, tell him that he still has a job. Then tell him that at 0800 tomorrow morning, he's going to go to the White House Counsel's office and Counsel is going to advise him of what to do."

"Yeah, Mr. President. This is not going to be an easy conversation to have." She sighed.

"I know, but I don't there's a single person in this building that wants to face a White House without Gunny." The President headed for the door to the outer office.

0103 ZULU

ARLINGTON MEMORIAL BRIDGE

WASHINGTON, DC

Gunny leaned on his elbows on the cement rail. He liked this job. How could he be so stupid to risk it over a few pills? Damn it! He stared down at the Potomac beneath him. This job meant more money and more impact on society then he could have ever dreamed of. He owed all that to a man he had met a decade earlier in physical therapy at Bethesda. The rain began to fall around him as he turned his head to look at the Lincoln Memorial set against the backdrop of Washington.

The taxi had dropped him off a few hours ago, but now a car was pulling up against the curb behind him and the driver was getting out. "Need a lift?" The familiar alto asked.

"He send you out here after me?" Gunny didn't turn to face her.

"No, I knew where you would be." She replied. "Let me ask, was it the pills, did they make you feel? Or was it that they made you feel nothing?"

"You know to be honest with you, Stacy, I don't know." He shook his head and let out a heavy breath. "Do I still have a job?"

"He wants you to know that you do and that you have to meet with the White House Counsel tomorrow morning." She put a hand on his back. "You should have talked to me. It wasn't physical pain you were dealing with, it was the shooting itself, the impact that it had on you."

"I'm going to need your help to get past it." He turned to face her.

"Hey, you got it." She grinned and gave him a big hug. "Come on, let's get you home."


	41. You've Got a Friend

_George Wendt as White House Council Thad Brown_

1526 ZULU

OFFICER'S CLUB

NORFOLK, VIRGINIA

The dedication ceremony of the _USS Gerald R. Ford _was a little more then a half an hour away. The people who were going to be involved in the ceremony were in the Officer's Club. President Ross was there with Morley who was finishing up his dedication speech. Admiral Turner had yet to show up but the representative of the Ford family was there. A few seconds later, Admiral Turner came walking into the room with a guest. "When I told him that you were going to be here, he demanded the right to come along." Sturgis stated. "Mr. President, this is my father, Chaplain Matthew Turner."

"Nice to meet you, Chaplain Turner." The President shook the elder man's hand.

"It's very nice to you, Mr. President." Matthew Turner shook his hand. "I knew your father."

"Most people did, I've found." The President chuckled.

"Oh, but not all of them have a story like mine, I'll bet." The Chaplain chuckled.

"I don't think you told me this story, dad." Sturgis looked confused.

"Well, how long do we have before the two of you have to dedicate that new aircraft carrier?" Chaplain Turner lowered himself into a chair.

"About a half hour." The President answered.

"Well, we might be cutting it a little close but I'll try anyway." He motioned for the two younger men to sit. Admiral Turner and the President each laughed to themselves as they took their seats. "Your Father and I met in Montgomery, Alabama in the winter of 1955, the same day that Martin Luther King Jr. was arrested in February of 1956. We were standing in front of some buses as a part f the boycott and then cops came by and they slapped the cuffs on me and your dad and they dragged us off to the local prison. They were getting ready to throw both of us in separate cells on account of your dad being white and them racist cops didn't want a nice white Marine in the pen with a couple of scrawny black fellas.

Well, your dad demanded to be put in a cell with the black boys and the cops refused, so, your dad showed exactly what a good old Marine boy could do and he busted the chain that held the two cuffs together. He looked right at that dumb bumpkin cop and said 'Now, you going to put me in with those boys or do you want me to ruin another set of handcuffs?' I've never seen two people look so damn afraid in my entire life. They opened the door to the cell and your dad walked in to join us. It was desegregation by fear." Matthew Turner laughed.

"I never heard that story either." Nate grinned.

"Well, that's not the end of it; the two of us spent twelve hours in the Montgomery prison cell." He sighed. "We were all angry, all of us, we were all angry that winter because we had so much to say and it took a while to learn how to work together. I didn't think that a white boy from Pennsylvania who had grown up in a Marine family could identify with the plight of blacks in the south, hell; I didn't think that he could identify with the plight of blacks in the north but there he was, sitting in the same jail cell in segregated Alabama that I was." Chaplain Turner leaned forward in his chair.

"Sir, it's begun to rain outside, they're going to postpone the ceremony for another half hour, and they think that it's going to clear up. It may just be a cloud burst." Morley whispered to the President.

"Thanks." The President nodded. "Looks like we're going to have a few more minutes, Chaplain. Care to tell us more about this story?"

1530 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

Gunny sat in the office of the White House Counsel. Thad Brown was known for being a little eccentric, but this wouldn't be a Democratic White House without a Chicago man in it and that's the role that Thad Brown served as White House Counsel. Gunny had come initially at 0800 this morning to the office but by the time 0900 rolled around, Brown still wasn't there, so Gunny left. After ninety minutes doing electoral math on the recent polling data on where the President was polling over 53 percent and where Republican candidates were polling over 45.

So, Gunny came back at 10:30 to see if Thad was there. The Secretary told him that White House Counsel would be back in a few second so Gunny opted to wait in his office. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Thad Brown came walking in wearing a Chicago Cubs jersey with an apple in his mouth and a baseball bat in hand. "Thad, you can't come into work late like this all the time." Gunny pointed out. "And who said you could wear this into work?"

"The President." Thad said through a mouthful of apple. "And I don't come into work late like this everyday. Just on Thursdays." He grinned smartly. "What's up?"

"I think I may have committed a crime for which the President and the Congress could order my removal and the U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia could bring me up on charges." Gunny blurted out all at once. "Like I said, I'm not sure that it's a crime." Thad Brown stopped chewing and stared blankly at Gunny for a second.

"What do you mean that you're not sure it's a crime?" Thad Brown peaked an eyebrow.

"I mean, I'm not sure that I violated any known articles of U.S Law or of my employment here at the White House or with the Democratic Party." Gunny explained just as he'd rehearsed a thousand times in his head. Thad Brown got up out of his chair and tightened his grip around the baseball bat in his hand. He waved it in the air in a threatening manner.

"Damn it!" He swung the bat and brought it crashing against a filing cabinet. "Just what the hell did you do and how much does the President know?"

"After I got shot a couple of months ago, my Doctor gave me some painkillers to manage the pain. For the first three to four weeks, I was required to use them as needed to manage any pain in the wake of the shooting. Since then, I've had a problem managing my intake of the medication." Gunny admitted, his eyes on the floor.

"How much does the President know?" Thad pressed. "I'm his lawyer, I need to know because my job is to protect him from legal vulnerabilities."

"The President knows everything. He confronted me with it last night and told me to see you." Gunny answered. "When I tried to talk to him on the phone, he told me that I wasn't to talk to him until I talked to you."

"The President knows how to cover his ass. I'm guessing he found out last night?" Thad sank back into his chair.

"Yeah, he did." Gunny nodded.

"Well, that covers what he knew and when he knew it." Thad scratched a few notes on some paper. "Who else knows?"

"To my knowledge, only the Press Secretary; although, I know that with the state of their relationship, it's likely that the First Lady knows too." Gunny breathed heavily.

"You did have a prescription for this medication that was valid every time and filled by a registered pharmacist every time?" White House Counsel was charging ahead.

"Every single time." Gunny answered.

"Did these controlled substances ever impair your job performance?" Thad asked.

"Since I've been back at work, I haven't been returned to my previous full duties as Chief of Staff. The President's been trying to accommodate my recovery process." Gunny cracked his knuckles.

"So, it's your contention that the President doesn't believe that you fully recovered from the incident back in December yet?" Brown continued to scribble on the paper in front of him.

"Yes."

"You said that you hadn't been returned to your full duties as they were before the shooting. Who's been helping carry some of your workload in the interim?" Brown was starting to relax.

"Charlie Scott has taken over some of my legislative liaison responsibilities, as has Derek Morley. Charlie handles the House, Derek the Senate. About two weeks ago we brought in Mitch Kingston as the Chairman to re-elect and he's taken on some of my political strategy abilities." Gunny felt slightly unnerved in the chair now.

"Alright, were you ever asked about your health or about how you were dealing with the aftermath about the shooting by the Congress, a member of the Congress or any members of the executive branch of government, that we haven't indicated have prior knowledge?" Thad kept writing.

"Charlie Scott, Derek Morley and Katherine O'Leary, all members of the White House senior staff, they've all asked." Gunny admitted. "I told them I was fine."

"That was your exact answer?" Thad Brown was a real shark of a lawyer, it was probably why he was White House Counsel.

"Of course, Thad. In case you haven't noticed, there isn't a lot of time to stop and give specifics about your health and medication habits when you work in this building." Gunny sniped. "I'm sorry, I know you're just trying to help."

"Yeah, well right now, I need to keep talking because I need to know everything." Besides being a good lawyer, Thad Brown had been the campaign chairman in Illinois, which made him an astute politician. "You need to understand, this is a story that the press is going to want. It's sexy, it's got prescription drugs and however legally obtained, they're going to draw fire from Democrats and Republicans in the Senate. We're going to sit here and talk for the rest of the day, after which, I'm going to make a recommendation to the President which I expect you to follow to the letter. Are we understood?"

"Yeah, Tad. I got it." Gunny nodded. By now, he was feeling slightly disappointed in himself.

1607 ZULU

OFFICER'S CLUB

NORFOLK, VIRGINIA

"So, there we were sitting in jail in Montgomery, Alabama for standing in front of a bus." Chaplain Turner continued. "A few of the brothers in the cell, they hung a whooping on your dad. They were local boys who were upset that some Yankee white boy had come down here to cause trouble. They had reason to be pissed off, I suppose. Every time that the SCLC came to town, the KKK started picking up the attacks local blacks. So, these two boys, they beat your old man black and blue and there he sat, with a bloody lip, his back against the cold cement. I walked over and sat next to him.

You boys need to understand, by 1956; Lieutenant John H. Ross was already a known name to a lot of folks. His dad was a pacific commander in the Second World War; he'd won the Navy Cross in Korea and at a cocktail gathering in Washington, he'd told Senator Joe McCarthy to 'pull his head out of his ass'." Chaplain Turner laughed to himself.

"I know that story, Dad loved telling that one. He used to say that McCarthy threatened to subpoena him and dad told him to bring it on because in Korea he shot more Commies then McCarthy had ever seen." Nate added.

"So, I sat down with him. I said 'What the hell are you doing down here, Yankee?' I cursed a lot more then. Your dad wiped his mouth and, spit out the blood, looked me right in the eye and said 'We hold these truths to be self evident that _all_ men are created equal.' Your dad looked me right in the eye and quoted the Declaration of Independence. I had to laugh. Here was this dumb ass Pennsylvanian, sitting in a jail cell in Alabama perfectly content with being in a prison cell because he was hanging on to fourteen words written a hundred and eighty years earlier. The two of us sat in that jail cell for fourteen hours overnight talking about why Civil Rights weren't just a black issue. He told me about how your grandfather integrated units under his command more then five years before Harry Truman signed the Executive Order making it law. He told me about how he regularly opposed segregated Officer's Clubs and how he damn near punched Strom Thurmond when the Governor visited Parris Island where your dad was an instructor.

At around 9:30 the next morning, the NAACP had sent Thurgood Marshall down to Montgomery to bail twelve of us out. Well, your dad shook my hand and told me that he was sure he'd see me around but he had to head back home, and he needed to take a bus. I laughed a little and told him that he ought to sit in the back and if any of the folks back there gave him any trouble, he ought to tell them that he'd been in a Montgomery, Alabama jail that morning and Thurgood Marshall had to bail him out." Chaplain Turner finished talking.

"That's a good story, dad." Sturgis nodded.

"There's an epilogue. I did meet your dad again. He was the ball carrier for President Kennedy and he was with us that day at the Lincoln Memorial when we heard Dr. King cry 'Free at last, free at last, God Almighty free at last." The old Chaplain began to tear up.

"There's a story I could hear again at another time." The President gave his knees a pat as he rose to his feet. "It's still raining outside, looks like it's getting lighter, though. How is the delegate collection going for July?" The President turned to face Sturgis. "I can't shut Danny Proper and Andrea Wallace up about it and Nolan McKinnon calls me from Tallahassee every week to give me a campaign update even though I tell him not to."

"Things in California, Pennsylvania and Illinois look good. Colorado, Nevada and Arizona are pretty good. Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee, Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina and Virginia are all on the fence." Sturgis searched his mind before affirming what he said.

"You're polling well in the old Confederacy?" Nate questioned slightly suspicious.

"Most of the Democrats in the old Confederacy now are African Americans, Mr. President." Sturgis answered.

"You're right, if that's so, then how come the most Democrats have even won in the African American community is 88 percent?" Nate suddenly looked confused.

"Because you're a whacky liberal, Mr. President." Sturgis answered honestly. "You're a whacky liberal and that alienates some of the more conservative black voters."

"I'm good on civil rights." Nate pointed out.

"The black community isn't a single issue body any more. They like big government, they do. They like HUD and they like Medicare and Medicaid and social security. They also like gun control, which you haven't done anything about. They like it when the government cracks down on gangs, because they're worried about their kids joining one. They would like it if you could make it easier for their kids to get into college because right now, a kid born in Compton has a better chance of ending up in prison than Princeton." Sturgis grew slightly impassioned but he calmed himself when he reminded himself that he was talking to the President. "Sorry, sir."

"No, don't be. You just proved that you have one asset that is absolutely crucial to being Vice President. You can tell truth to power. I'll give you a free piece of political advice because what you just said really impressed me. Take your campaign to New York, Ohio and Louisiana." The President advised. "If any of the other three candidates find out that I gave you this advice…"

"Secret is safe with me, Mr. President." Sturgis laughed.

"Speaking of Civil Rights, as we were earlier, I wanted to ask you a question, Chaplain." The President began to pace. "With regard to gay rights."

"You're opening up a whole new can of worms on that one, sir. I can say that while a lot of people reject that there are any similarities between Blacks in the 60s and Gays now, it doesn't change the fact that there are. In the same Biblical books that admonish homosexuals, there's an endorsement for slavery. What a lot of people don't understand about the Bible is that a lot of the direct moral objectives were based on context; they were the best rules that they had at the time. The Bible endorses slavery but it condemns people for wearing clothes made of two different materials; it condemns people to death for working on the Sabbath or committing adultery; it reprimands people for touching the skin of a pig or touching another human being if they've urinated that day. My point is, that in a land where all men are supposed to be created equal, as your dad reminded me in that Montgomery jail cell, you cannot deny any aspect of the law to any of its citizens." The Chaplain concluded. "That's my opinion both as a man of the cloth and as an American."

"Thank you, Chaplain." The President blinked hard and nodded, waiting for the rain to stop.

1901 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

"You do realize that if the President hadn't caught this when he had, you'd be out of a job right now, right?" Thad Brown asked over some KFC takeout.

"You've only pointed that out something life nineteen times in that last four hours, Thad. You sure you can't say it one more time?" Gunny sniped sarcastically.

"I'm just saying that you're going to have to stop being pissed off at him eventually for calling you on it." Thad explained. "You're his closest advisor, aside from his wife, no one on the planet spends more time with him then you do. I'd be pissed off and kind of worried if he didn't pick up on there being a problem."

"I'm not pissed off at the President." Gunny retorted.

"You are. You're pissed off at the President, because not only did he find out but he needed to be told in order to start looking around. You're pissed off at Stacy because she told him when you didn't think it was any of her business. Most of all, you're pissed off at yourself because you probably thought you were too strong to fall into the drug abuse pit and you almost did." Thad theorized. "Being White House Chief of Staff doesn't make you immortal or superhuman. You have the same faults and weaknesses as everyone else. That's why vicodin has a high dependency rate."

"Are you a psychiatrist now, Thad?" Gunny pressed.

"No, but you're going to see one." Thad answered. "That's how we're going to deal with this situation. On Friday, when Stacy takes out the trash with the Press Corps, she's going to hand out a press release stating that you're seeking medical help to deal with pain management in the wake of lingering effects of the shooting. This is going to be our very diplomatic way of leaking the story to the Press."

"Won't it become a national story right away?" Gunny dunked another French fry into the gravy container.

"Almost immediately, but no one reads the papers on Saturday, and we can cross our fingers and hope that the television media doesn't pick it up or doesn't make a big news story out of it. If they do, then it makes it into the Sunday papers and it gets more exposure but by Tuesday, the Republicans have a shovel full of primaries and that's the end of the news cycle." Thad set the chicken bone down in the cardboard carton.

"Okay, so, basically we have to hope that the guys who are jumping up and down on Fox News on Saturday trying to draw attention to this story?" Gunny shrugged his shoulders. "You know, sometimes I think we should have a Republican in this administration just so that we have someone who's willing to help us deflect these moronic attacks by Bill O'Reilly and Sean Hannity."

"No, no, no, no, no!" Thad protested. "This is the most liberal administration since LBJ, maybe since FDR. Like, seriously, your boss is a crazy whacko leftist liberal and speaking for the crazy whacko leftist liberal wing of the Democratic Party, it's about time that we got out Liberal. It's about time we got a Liberal version of Ronald Reagan, which is kind of an insult to the President because he's miles upon miles smarter then Reagan but that's not the point. Ronald Reagan was the most conservative President that we've ever had, period but people liked him because he was a strong leader and he had vision. No Democrat in the last century has been this close to the military or this strong on foreign policy. We are not screwing up a star candidacy with some hasty and ill thought plan to look bipartisan."

"Calm down, Thad. You'll give yourself a heart attack." Gunny quipped.

"I'm halfway there." Thad pat his rather large belly.

"This is why you and the President trade off turns as the White House Santa at Christmastime, right?" Gunny chuckled.

"Well, that and we're just damn nice guys." Thad Brown grinned sarcastically. "So, we're clear on how we're handling this problem of yours?"

"Yeah." Gunny nodded.

"Good, and I'm going to be checking in and I know the President will be as well, so, you'd better go to the damn shrink!"

2251 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"Mac, why are we going over this again?" Harm groaned as he took a seat on the couch next to Frank and his mom. "Oh, and by the way, I've been reading some of your opinions; I didn't know that we disagreed on this much."

"That's because you have a narrow-minded view of the Bill of Rights, sometimes I wonder how I could be married to such a textualist." Mac shook her head in mock disappointment.

"It's because you're madly, passionately in love with me. I also object to being called a textualist, I believe in substantive due process." Harm leaned forward over the table with the list of questions in front of him. So, what family member is what Senator tonight, Mac?"

"You're Senator Wiebe, Frank is Senator Unger and your mom is Senator Micholias." Mac sat down facing the mock panel. "Is this oddly anal retentive?"

"Not oddly, just regularly anal retentive." Harm joked. "Honey, you're up for a seat on the Supreme Court, you can be forgiven for being a little anxious and you can be forgiven for striving to be well prepared."

The kids came rushing down the stairs, it having been Valentines Day at school today, Sasha had spent the last hour in her room searching through her backpack to find her favourite Valentines and bring them down to show her parents. She trotted down the stairs into the living room where her mom was sitting in a chair facing her grandparents and her mom. "Playing Senate again, mom?" Sasha asked.

"Yeah." Mac nodded. "I'm still getting ready for my big job interview."

"I just wanted to show you the Valentines that I got in class today." Sasha opened her arms and about a dozen thick paper Valentines cards fell on to the table. Mac knew that the vast majority of Sasha's friends were boys; there was Jack, Brad and Tim Ross, Arleigh Chegwidden and Jimmy Roberts. Sure enough, among the names on the Valentines were those five names. Mac took time to read each one quickly and pass them around to Harm and Trish and Frank. After they were done, they handed them back to Sasha, Mac kissed her daughter on top of her head and told her to go and do her homework.

"She has a lot of friends who are boys; doesn't that worry the two of you?" Trish questioned as she sipped on her tea.

"Nah; Brad, Jack, Arleigh and Jimmy all treat her like she's their little sister. Tim Ross is protective with her as well but I'm not sure that it's with the same kind of fraternal attitude." Harm answered.

"Worried that your little girl is smitten with the President's son, Harm?" Frank asked.

"Don't remind me of that, it's going to give me and ulcer or grey hairs or both." Harm chuckled. "I've worked with his father in some capacity on and off for the last decade. I know how the Ross mind works."

0133 ZULU

THE OVAL OFFICE

WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON DC

The President stood in his office with Gunny, the two of them waiting for Stacy to come back into the office with the rest of White House senior staff. The President stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked down at the latest estimate from the HHS on social security and medicare. One by one; Morley, Charlie, Kat, Stacy and Mitch all walked into the office. The President looked up from his desk at all of them. "We start running to win today." He said simply. "There's going to be no running for center and no going negative; we're going to go out and we're going to tell the American people exactly what we're going to do. This campaign starts on St. Patrick's Day morning in New York and then Boston in the afternoon; from there, we're on the whistle-stop right through to May 3rd in Austin, Texas."

"Yes, sir." Gunny, Morley, Charlie and Stacy all muttered with a grin and a nod.

"If anyone has a problem with this, you tell me now and you stay here for the campaign. If you don't, then get ready to spend two months on a train, sometimes we'll freeze our ass off in the plains states and by the time we get to the Southwest, it will be late April and we'll be baking. There's going to be press, policy and poker on the train. You'll be rooming in a train car with another person in this room, needless to say, Kat and Stacy, the two of you will be rooming together." The First Lady entered the room and the President smiled at her. "The most dangerous time in any national campaign is when you don't know who you'll be facing."

"Never be afraid to approach one of us." The First Lady interjected. "This campaign is only going to work if we realize that this is a team, we've got one goal and one motivation. We want to get my husband re-elected because our ideals, put to work in this building, behind this desk," she laid her hand on the President's desk, "our ideals can change America. Our voice can create hope; our vision can bring people from coast to coast, of every race and religion together and realize that our calling as Americans is far greater then our alliance as Democrat or Republicans." She reached into her pocket and produced a torn off piece of paper with a few words scribbled on it: 'Hope for America's Future'. "That's where we start."

The President grinned and roped an arm around her waist. "So, let's hear the first round of electoral math. Mitch, what have you got for us?"

"Great numbers in New England, the Midwest, Southwest and Pacific Northwest. Right now, the only states where Republicans lead outside the margin of error are Alaska, Alabama, Georgia, Idaho, Kansas, Mississippi, Oklahoma, South Carolina, Utah and Wyoming. Other then that, we're pretty much competitive across the board or leading heavily. The greatest worry comes against Senator Coles who could feasibly challenge us hard in Ohio, Florida, Michigan, Wisconsin and Minnesota. If it's Governor Burke we have to worry about the God factor." Mitch Kingston closed his clipboard. "Your favourable-unfavourable rating is 61-39; shares our values is at 57-43 and strong leader is at 69-31. Right now, you'd be re-elected; we just need to get you out on the road, sir."

"Alright, everyone head home. We've got one month left here at home base before things really kick off." The President encouraged.

"Thank you, Mr. President." The staffers nodded and left the room.

"As for you, my dear." The President and the First Lady walked out of the room arm in arm. "I've set up quite the Valentines Day surprise for you up in the residence if I do say so myself."

"You and your ego." Nicole chuckled as the door to the Oval Office closed behind them.


	42. Them Suspicious Catholics

"Alright, sir, this morning you're going to be sitting with the Today Show people today during the parade and announcing the parade march with the hosts. Then at eleven o'clock you're going to have a beer with the guys from the NYPD 27th Precinct at a bar in midtown. Six members of the Senatorial Irish caucus are going to be with us tonight at the DeValera Dinner in Boston." Mitch Kingston and the rest of White House senior staff were walking down the hotel hallway with the President.

"Sir, I think we should reconsider doing the DeValera dinner if Sean McGinnis is going to be there." Charlie jumped in.

"Sir, I have to agree, the British aren't going to take too kindly to the leader of Sinn Fein getting a joint photo op with the President of the United States and six prominent Democratic Senators." Stacy added.

"Mr. President, we have to do the dinner in Boston, if only because it's Boston." Morley decided to add his two cents to the fray. "Sean McGinnis may be the leader of Sinn Fein and a man who is crusading to free Northern Ireland and yes, there may be some loose connections to past violence but you absolutely cannot shun this event."

"I agree, sir. You are only the second Catholic President in American history, we can by no means take the Catholic vote for granted and we need to win it at least 60-40." Mitch concluded.

"What do you think, Gunny?" The President turned to his Chief of Staff.

"Screw the British, sir. They don't vote in our elections, we don't vote in theirs and if we want to celebrate the nation's Irish Catholic heritage with an Irish Catholic, who cares?" Gunny answered.

"That's what I was hoping you'd say." The President chuckled. "Because I was going to do it anyway. What six senators are going to be with us at the Dinner?"

"You're co-hosting with Senator O'Neill from Massachusetts, sir. Senators Ryan from Idaho, Corcoran from New Jersey, Hennessy from New York, Cleary from North Carolina and Houlihan from Vermont will all be there." Charlie answered.

"Houlihan's going to be there?" The President turned to face Charlie as they got on the elevator. "Isn't he supposed to be leading Mac's confirmation hearings back in Washington?"

"He's flying up for the dinner and catching the midnight shuttle back from Logan to Dulles." Charlie replied.

"Then tomorrow morning we get on the train and we start the whistle-stop tour." Gunny finished up the briefing. "We've got stops in Nashua, Concord, Manchester and Portsmouth before he head through Vermont and Northeastern New York State the day after that."

"So, we've got the Today Show, then a press conference with the NYPD at a bar in midtown and then we've got a plane ride to Boston tonight where I sit down with a bunch of Irish legislators, drink green beer and get roasted by my friends in the Senate?" The President double-checked. "Kat's joining us once she's done with Mac's confirmation?"

"Yeah, and Gunny's staying behind in New York to do The Daily Show tonight." Stacy chimed in.

"You're going to sit down with Stewart?" Nate chuckled as the elevator stopped at the bottom floor.

"I figured that since the First Lady has done it twice, it was about time I do it once." Gunny replied. "Think he'll bring up the fact that I'm Latino?"

"Yeah, but he'll probably say something along the lines of 'I can't help but notice that you're brown.' Or something like that and then point out that no Mexican-American has ever been White House Chief of Staff." Stacy answered. "Have fun."

1415 ZULU

HART SENATE BUILDING

WASHINGTON, DC

Mac was standing in the corridor outside the hearing room. Her former boss was supposed to be her representative counsel in front of the Senate today but she had some family emergency to deal with, so the White House was sending someone over. She began to pace the floor, the butterflies in her stomach beginning to flutter uncontrollably. Mac began to hyperventilate as she decided to sit down on a bench outside the hearing room. "See, now I remember being that nervous, but it was twenty years ago." An older man chuckled. Mac looked up to see the smiling face of Supreme Court Justice Sam Meyer. Meyer was about sixty-five and bald but he had a warm and friendly smile, "I was told you needed counsel and the White House asked me if I would help out."

"I'm Sarah Rabb." Mac extended her hand to shake his.

"Yes, I know." Justice Meyer grinned. "I trust you know who I am?"

"Yes, sir." Mac answered out of habit.

"You don't have to, 'sir' me, Sarah. After these confirmation hearings, we'll be colleagues on the Court. I sure don't want you calling me 'sir', while we're at work." Justice Meyer helped Mac to her feet. "Sam is just fine."

"Most people just call me Mac." Mac replied as the two of them walked toward the doors to the hearing room.

"Yeah, well, that's about to change, Mac. You're about to become an Associate Justice on the Supreme Court." Justice Meyer replied. "Every time the Washington Post or ZNN mentions your name from now on, you're going to be Justice Sarah Rabb. Now, in about five minutes, Senator Houlihan is going to gavel into session this confirmation hearing. The two of them pushed through the large wooden doors and into the hearing room where the crowd had gathered. They made their way to the table at the front that faced the foreboding line of Senators.

"The Democrats are on our left, the Republicans on our right." Meyer whispered to Mac.

"Kind of fitting isn't it?" Mac whispered back and the older Justice cracked a grin.

"This meeting of the Senate Judiciary Committee will come to order!" Senator Houlihan banged his gavel. The Senators took their seats along the panel and Mac felt the butterflies start to die down. "Professor Rabb, would you stand and raise your right hand to God." Mac did as was asked of her. "Do you swear that the testimony which you shall give to this committee shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do." Mac affirmed.

"And who is appearing as Counsel for the nominee?" Senator Houlihan moved his gaze to Sam Meyer.

"Justice Samuel Meyer." The Justice answered.

"This committee welcomes Justice Meyer." Houlihan looked down at the notes in front of him. "Professor Rabb, this hearing is to determine whether or not you stand fit as a candidate for a position on the Supreme Court of the United States. Before we launch into questioning, I will take this time to brief the committee on your qualifications. From 2002 until 2005 Professor Rabb, then a Colonel in the United States Marine Corps, was the first woman to ever represent the Marine Corps on the Military Court of Appeals. From 2005 until 2008, Professor Rabb was promoted to Brigadier General and elevated to the Chief of the Naval Judiciary, also the first woman to serve in that post. From 2009 until the present, Professor Rabb has been teaching military and international law at George Washington University. She holds a Bachelor's degree in Political Science from the University of Minnesota and she obtained her law degree from Duke University." Houlihan closed his folio. "Good morning, Professor."

"Good morning, Mr. Chairman." Mac replied.

"At this moment, I yield the floor to my colleague, the Junior Senator from Iowa, Mr. Knowles." Houlihan looked to Mac's left at the junior most member of the Democratic side of the committee.

"Thank you, Mr. Chairman." Senator Knowles answered. "Professor, my question pertains to your personal character. I by no means wish to attack you personally, but Professor in 1999 you were charged in the shooting death of your estranged husband Christopher Ragle. Subsequent to testimony you provided in the trial, you were charged with perjury; my question, Professor, is do you believe that these particular events reflect the moral character a Supreme Court Justice is supposed to embody?" The Senator looped his pen through his fingers.

"If you mean, Senator, does my taking a life reflect poorly on my office? I would answer absolutely not; we've had Presidents and Senators who've fought in wars and taken lives in self defence as it was ruled I did by a court martial. My testimony in the case was not perjury, as the presiding authority in the case had ruled it was questionable conduct for which I was punished by my commanding officer and rightly so." Mac answered, leaning over the microphone on the desk.

"Your commanding officer at the time was the current Secretary of Defence?" Senator Knowles pressed.

"Yes, Senator." Mac nodded.

"At this point, I direct the attention of the committee to the junior Senator from Alabama, Mr. Hayes." Chairman Houlihan intervened.

"Thank you, Mr. Chairman." Senator Hayes answered. "Professor, my question is with regard to the sanctity of marriage. Your opinion in the National Legal Journal stated that the fourteenth amendment and more specifically the Equal Protection Clause, guarantees homosexuals the right to marry. Professor, being as the current ruling is that homosexuals do not constitute a 'suspect class' and hence are not being discriminated against legally, isn't the argument about the Equal Protection Clause a fallacious one?"

"Senator, homosexuals in this country are barred from the protections of marriage law in this country, they're barred from equal access to adoption law in this country and until this President and Democrats in Congress stood up and reversed the policy, they were barred from open service in the Armed Services. No other minority, whose actions are completely legal, have their lifestyle so heavily regulated by the government. Senator, if they aren't the definition of a 'suspect class', I don't know what is!" Mac retorted and there was applause from the gallery behind her. Senator Houlihan, trying hard not to grin, pounded his gavel.

"The chamber will come to order!" He demanded but the applause continued. "This committee will be in recess for five minutes."

1636 ZULU

O'DOYLE'S PUB

NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

With the parade over, the President and his detail moved to O'Doyle's in midtown Almost the entire 27th Precinct of the New York Police Department was with them. The rest of the bar was shut down and the Secret Service Agents at the door gave everyone a pat down search on their way into the pub. Inside the pub, the President was sitting at a table sipping at a pint of green beer with Police Commissioner, Mayor of New York and Senator Hennessy.

"My aides tell me that the Rabb confirmation hearings are going well. Apparently she showed young Hayes the business end of the Constitution." Hennessy chuckled. "Don't run to the center, Mr. President. We win this election by being Democrats and I suspect you know that. If you give them Republican-lite, they'll just vote for the real thing."

"You're the head of the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee this time around, aren't you?" The President mused, knowing the answer.

"Well, I had hoped that it wasn't that obvious." Senator Hennessy replied, the mug of Guinness raised to his mouth. "Democrats like you, Mr. President, they only come around so often. I've had occasion in my life to meet a few of them. I met President Johnson when I was a much younger man, he was a man of strong convictions, a good Democrat. I served with Senator Moynihan who was also a good man and a good Democrat and when I was a very young boy, I had the chance to meet President Roosevelt. You come from a long tradition, Mr. President. Live up to it."

The President sat there staring at his beer for a few seconds before Stacy came over and tapped on his shoulder. "Sir, we've got that press conference now." She answered and the gang of four major politicians got up from the table. They followed the White House Press Secretary over to the cameras. The President stood front and center in front of the cameras. It was the adrenaline rush, the thrill of the campaign that brought out his encyclopaedic knowledge of the Problems Americana. He had positioned himself as Truman had in 1948, of a man with strong moral convictions and the voice and background of the people taking on the barons of big business in the Republican Party.

"Mr. President, what was the point of coming to New York today?" The reporter from MSNBC asked. The President narrowed his eyes for a second before growing a wide grin.

"Well, I'm not sure that there's a St. Patrick's Day celebration in America quite like the one here in New York." The President started, his big grin staying on his face. "St. Patrick's Day in America is a celebration of how Irish immigrants provided the backbone of our country in some of its most difficult times. During the Civil War and industrialism and progressivism, Irish immigrants and indeed many people who came to America for a better future built the base of American industry. That's not the only reason I came to New York though." The President waved some of the cops over to the camera. "I came to New York, to talk about how the government can help our police officers fight crime. Did you know that there are twenty-two gun laws in this country and the only _two_ are enforced? Or how about the fact that in recent years, as few as two percent of gun crimes were prosecuted? I'm here in New York as I will be in small towns and big cities to ask our police officers," The President put his arm around the police chief and a local cop, "what we can do to get tough on crime and keep America's streets safe for our children. So, help me God, I will use a crowbar to pry the money from Congress if I have to."

There were laughs in the room. "Mr. President!" One of the cops called from the corner. Why don't you join us in a song, sir?" The President chuckled and sheepishly shook his head. The boys in the corner, being as they likely already had quite a bit to drink, decided to start the song anyway. "_In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty, I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone."_ The cops in the corner started and a dozen more of the cops at the bar joined in.

_"Though she wheeled her wheelbarrow, through streets broad and narrow. Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!" _The Police Commissioner and Senator Hennessy were the next into the chorus which meant the President had to stand up to the plate. _"Alive, alive o! Alive, alive o! Crying cockles and mussels alive, alive o!"_ The pints of beer sways side to side as the President stood in the bar, surrounded by distinguished members of the New York Police Department, the Senior Senator from New York and the Mayor of New York, enjoying St. Patrick's Day.

1644 ZULU

HART SENATE BUILDING

WASHINGTON, DC

"Now, Professor Rabb," Senator Lynch from Kansas took his turn to question Mac, "as you know, _Roe v. Wade_ is often a topic which appears before this committee with regard to judicial nominees. Professor, in an opinion you gave to a magazine when questioned about the 1973 decision you answered and I quote: "Abortion, as a practice is horrible and I cannot conceive of a single human being who could honestly say that they enjoy participating in the procedure. However, the nature of the practice is not at issue. What is at issue, is whether it is the business of the state to intervene in what a woman does with her body and whether the foetus constitutes a life. How Justice Blackmun arrived at these decisions, I'm not sure. If I were forced to decide on this issue I would adhere to _stare decisis,_ which is to say that I would vote to uphold the _Roe_ precedent. Professor, are you saying that you are pro-choice?"

"What I said, Senator, was that I'm not sure that if I were placed in the situation Justice Blackmun was in, that I would have been able to decide such astronomical questions as when life begins. As a competent jurist, if I find no constitutional grounds specifically prohibiting the law, as is the case of the Roe decision, I believe them to be grounds upon which the Ninth Amendment holds jurisdiction and I decide accordingly. In my case, there is also a precedent to guide my decision. So, Senator, if the fact that I would not overturn Roe makes me pro-choice, then I would say, yes I am." Mac answered, having tied the answer in a few legal knots.

"So, you would not vote to overturn precedent?" Senator Lynch pushed.

"I would not." Mac affirmed.

"Professor, would it surprise you greatly if I told you that many members of the Senate could hang their entire vote on this decision?" Lynch was winding up to the filibuster that everyone thought would be coming on the Senate floor. At this point, there were only two people who could head it off. One was the committee chairman, the other was Mac.

"It would not surprise me in the least, Senator." Mac paused for a minute before daring to go on. "It doesn't surprise me because you like many politicians now have made an electoral job history out of the ability to keep Americans divided on this issue rather then trying to get passed it and address the problems which are far more pressing to more Americans today."

"Professor Rabb, millions of abortions have been performed since the 1973 decision and millions of potential Americans…" Senator Lynch started but Mac cut him off.

"Senator, I'm going to stop you there because I'm not a big fan of hypocrisy and I will not allow you to sit up there and lecture me about potential deaths and potential lives when the gun control bills which you voted against have caused the deaths of millions of Americans include hundreds of thousands of American kids. You personally, Senator, have voted against increasing funding for the ATF so that they can prosecute gun crimes. So, Senator, before we launch down the road to hypocrisy, let me just stop you." Mac replied and the supporters in the gallery got to their feet and applauded her. The Democrats on the panel restrained their chuckles as they watched their colleague from Kansas turn whiter the Casper the Ghost.

"The chamber will come to order!" Houlihan demanded, dropping his heavy gavel on the panel desk. This time, the gallery members re-took their seats. Mac looked back to realize that it was mostly her students from GWU who were occupying seats in the gallery. "At this moment, the chair recognizes the Senator from California, Mr. Gonzalez."

"Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Professor, to alleviate the stress of the last round of questioning, I have a rather less divisive question for you." Senator Gonzalez, the young Democrat from California glanced up at the prospective Supreme Court Judge. "Professor, who are your four favourite Supreme Court Justices in American history?"

"That's an interesting question, Senator." Mac laughed. "I would say, Justices William J. Brennan and Thurgood Marshall for their tireless commitments to Civil Rights and the idea that the Constitution is a document which is very much a living entity in contemporary America. There's Justice Hugo Black whose commitment to the First Amendment should serve as a model for all American jurists. Finally, I think I would have to say Justice John Marshall Harlan II. Justice Harlan was a tireless dissenter and even though there are a lot of cases where I'm sure I would have disagreed with him, he must be admired for his tireless commitment to a judicial philosophy that, though it was more conservative then liberal, was by no means uniformed to one ideology. He dared, at times, to be a maverick." Mac replied.

"Good answer, professor." Senator Gonzalez nodded approvingly.

2254 ZULU

OMNI PARKER HOUSE

BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS

"When's Gunny going to be here?" The President fiddled with his bowtie.

"The taping for The Daily Show finished twenty minutes ago, he went straight to JFK and he'll be getting on the six o'clock shuttle to Logan International." Charlie answered.

"He should be here, he's been a Catholic since he was born, I've only been one for ten years. There's no way I'm qualified to go out there and give a speech to a roomful of them including the Cardinal of the Boston Diocese." The President looked nervously at the door. "He sends me a letter every week trying to get me to reconsider my position on some issue."

"Sir, you're the President of the United States, if you want to assert your authority, just have the 82nd Airborne stand behind you as you deliver your speech." Charlie joked.

"Was that a wise ass remark?" The President deadpanned.

"Little bit, sir." Charlie smirked.

"Sir, Professor Rabb on line one for you." Stacy popped her head into the room. The President walked over to the nightstand and punched the speaker button on the phone. He'd gotten the briefing on the hearing earlier and it had made him laugh once he was able to talk several campaign workers down off the wall.

"Mac, I thought I told you to play nice with the Republicans." The President joked.

"Sorry, sir, I got rather sick of being handled like some exhibit on display. I decided to take matters into my own hands. I guess that's what you get for trying to put a Marine on the court." She laughed to herself.

"Well, you energized the hell out of the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee. They're going to do an entire direct to mail series in states where the Republican Senator cut off funding to the ATF to investigate gun crime." The President gave his head a shake. "Between Nicole, and you, brunette women never cease to amaze me."

"Yeah, we're one of life's mysteries, sir." Mac chuckled.

"The committee voted to send your nomination to the floor. What kind of read did you get from the Senators that you talked to?" The President delved in. "Did you see the whites of their eyes?"

"I think Hayes and Lynch will vote against it, but they may be the only two. I think fraternization, hate crimes legislation and the John Marshall Harlan II answers all got me in good with the Republicans on the committee and that should extend to the Republicans on the Senate floor." Mac answered.

"How did Harm take the confirmation process?" The President was grinning.

"When I got home, he had it on Tivo under the title of 'the Smackdown'. He and Bax were watching it and replaying certain parts of it when I got home. There was honest to God pretzels involved in their viewing." Mac laughed. "I've got to go, Mr. President. It's dinner time."

"Give my best to the kids." The President punched the 'end' button and terminated the call. The President stuck his finger in his collar to wear down the starch. "I hate these dinners, I don't know why they make me attend them."

"This is what is typically known as re-election, sir. It lasts about eight months, creates headaches, nausea and all kinds of unpleasant things, you'll get over it." Morley gave the President a pat on the back. "It's an Irish Catholic Boston crowd. Just knock back a few Guinness, make a few signs of the cross and crack a few jokes about people in the audience."

"Isn't the DeValera Dinner a roast?" The President questioned as they walked to the door.

"Yes, sir." Morley nodded.

"Who are we roasting?" Nate inquired.

"The Cardinal of the Boston Diocese." Mitch raised his head from the paper in his hand.

"Oh, this is going to be about as funny as Carrie Nation at an A.A. meeting." The President rolled his eyes.

0111 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harmon Rabb sat up in bed reading the biography on Chester Nimitz that the President had sent over for Christmas. He thought it a weird pattern of events that his Christmas gift was a book and Mac's was a Supreme Court nomination. Well, Harm supposed that if he had wanted to, he could be the Vice President of the United States. It wasn't a position that he particularly desired. Harm remembered a quotation from Daniel Webster from his Eighth Grade history class: "I do not propose to be buried until I am dead", that was what Webster thought of being offered the Vice Presidency under President Taylor. Of course, Harm remembered, Taylor died sixteen months later and Vice President Millard Filmore became President.

He looked over at his wife who sauntered over to the bed in a sheer black negligee. "You can't wear that on the bench." He mused as he set the book on the nightstand. She climbed into bed and he kissed her quickly on top of the head. "I was really proud of you today."

"When aren't you?" Mac challenged as she laid her head on his chest. He chuckled. "Don't get too proud about it, Hayes and Lynch are two of the biggest simpletons in the Senate, there's barely a brain cell between them."

"Hey, go easy on the Republicans!" Harm protested.

"Not Republicans like you." Mac recovered. "I understand the small government Republicans, I understand the National Defence Republicans but the Christian Right…I just don't understand them. The First Amendment clearly indicates that the Founding Fathers didn't want religion within two hundred miles of the Constitution but they're damn determined to impose their morality on just about everyone in arm's reach."

"I didn't know you were pro-choice." Harm hung his head.

"I'm not. Harm, I carried three children to term, do you honestly think that I believe for a second that they were 'just foetuses' while they were in my womb? I answered exactly what I believe, and that is, that as a Justice; I cannot find any constitutional basis on which to overturn Roe v. Wade. As a Justice, that's the only thing that matters." Mac replied, he shoulders stiff again.

"Calm down, Madam Justice." Harm put his hands on her shoulders.

"You're turned on by that, aren't you?" Mac teased, her demeanour suddenly flirtatious.

"Oh, honey, you're a constant turn on." Harm kissed the end of her nose. The lights turned off and Mac straddled his hips. "So, when do you get the robe?" Harm grinned wickedly.

0224 ZULU

OMNI PARKER HOUSE

BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS

"You wanna come back inside? It's pretty cold out here." Gunny closed the doors to the balcony behind him

"Hey!" Stacy turned when she heard his voice. "When did you get here?"

"Shuttle normally gets you hear around 8:30; there was traffic on the way here and I had to change in the cab. I've been perusing the party for the last twenty minutes." Gunny answered. "How was the roast?"

"A laugh riot!" Stacy chuckled. "The President and the Senator are a regular Martin and Lewis." She paused for a second. "Not going to make some chauvinistic comment about my dress?"

"It's a nice dress." Gunny mused.

"That's all you got?" She jostled him with an elbow to the shoulder.

"So, what were you thinking about?" He changed the subject as the two of them looked out over the Charles River.

"All the things I've missed out on over the last four years." She sighed. "Do you know how much money I was making at ZNN?"

"It's going to make me sick isn't it?" Gunny joked.

"$850,000 a year." She told him. Gunny's eyes went wide. "See, I told you."

"Why on God's green earth did you give up that job?" Gunny asked, still in disbelief. He figured that at ZNN she made quite a bit of money but he never would have thought that she'd made that much.

"Because I told myself that we could get something _real_ accomplished with a Democrat in the White House and Democrats in the Congress. We have gotten something done. Gays can now serve openly in the military, corporations and lobbyists no longer run political parties in this country, we ended a war in the Middle East and we're about to get results from our Education Reform Bill from the first year." Her shoulders tensed notably. "Do you know how long it's been since I had sex?"

"No, but I get the feeling that this is finally a competition I can win." Gunny chuckled.

"January 14th, 2009." She told him.

"Six days before inauguration!" Gunny stood shocked. "Okay, you win. Celibate for three years has to be some kind of milestone."

"I think it's my longest streak since high school." She replied. "Sometimes I think the West Wing is nothing but one giant convent ready to control your life for however long you're willing to let it."

"When I think about this job, ten years from now, fifteen maybe, you know what I'll look back on, I think?" Gunny moved his shoulder right up against hers.

"No, what?" she looked at him fondly.

"I think I'll consider all that I would have missed out on if I'd never taken this job." He said, his dark eyes staring deep into hers.

"You always know just what to say." She tried to hide he grin.

"Part of my charm." The two of them turned back toward the door to the hotel ballroom. "Shall I escort you back in, mademoiselle?" He looped his arm through hers.

"Why, of course." She put on the fake British accent as he opened the door for the two of them.


	43. The Grand Coalition

Gunny woke up and pounded the pillow. The _Ferdinand Magellan_ was the only thing in the entire United States that could rival Air Force One in its sheer spectacle. The train was thirty cars long; it had an operating room, a Presidential suite, a press cabin, a mock up of the Situation Room and finally, the train had a few bedroom cabins for senior staff. Contrary to the President's previous belief, each of the senior staffers were able to have their own railcar for both a bedroom and an office. The President had the last two train cars for his office and suite.

Gunny rubbed his eyes and checked the clock; they were on their way from the Cleveland event the previous night to Kent State University this morning. He padded out of his bed and over to the coffee maker in his cabin. He started brewing coffee and let out a yawn. He took a few steps over to his computer and shook the mouse to bring it out of standby. He checked Reuters, Associated Press, MSNBC and ZNN websites before the coffee maker was done with his coffee. Just as he was pouring himself a cup, Stacy walked through the door into his cabin. "I like being on the road." She mused. "The coffee's better."

"Freeloader." He chuckled. "The Republicans have their last big primary tonight. It all comes down to Colorado."

"Larry Burke's got it, Norm Coles put in a damn good run but Larry Burke just got too much momentum out of those early primaries." Stacy wrapped her long slender fingers around the mug. She saw Gunny on the phone at the other end of the cabin. He was delivering the President's morning wake up call. After a few seconds, he hung up the phone and turned back to face her. "Trouble getting him out of bed?"

"I always do." Gunny laughed. "We've got him talking about globalization, the WTO and IMF in a town hall forum with the kids at Kent State."

"We've got the President talking about globalization at the hotbed of youthful liberal activism and we both know that economics are not his strong suit." Stacy pointed out.

"Well, they're not my strong suit but I do enjoy them so." The President walked into Gunny's railcar. "Good morning."

"Good Morning, Mr. President." The two of them muttered.

"Have the two of you become so accustomed to each other that you walk around in your underwear in front of each other?" The President raised his eyebrow and shook his head. "I've spoken with Mitch over the phone this morning. He's got a campaign plan that he calls the Grand Coalition, I wanted to know what you thought about it."

"What's the call?" Gunny asked.

"Mitch thinks that if we win Women, Catholics, Hispanics, African Americans, Jews, Gays and Young People all over the 60-40 margin, we can landslide this election." The President walked over and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"That would basically means that the only demographic we can stand to lose to the Republicans are white Protestant males?" Gunny looked up from his coffee. "I'm sure that Mitch wants us to get 44 percent of their vote too."

"Just as a safety net." The President sipped the coffee. "Think about that for a second. It would no longer simply be rhetoric for some of our more radical members to call Republicans, the party of WASPs. It would mean a wide expansion of the base of the Democratic Party and a good chance at a political realignment. I will state that I'm not particularly comfortable with drawing racial and religious minds. But realistically, white Protestant haven't voted a majority Democratic since 1964, so we're not really doing anything that hasn't already been done."

"If we fail with women, Catholics or Hispanics, we're going to be in a close race." Stacy pointed out.

"Yeah, but we've got a Catholic President and a Hispanic Chief of Staff." Gunny pointed out. "That's got to draw some votes for us."

"Even so, women are the biggest demographic." Stacy pointed out.

"I've put two women on the Supreme Court, more then thirty percent of my appointments to the federal judiciary are female, more then any other President in history and I get A plus ratings from every women's lobby group on women's issues. Besides, the First Lady is the Ace up the sleeve in this race." The President replied.

"You also appointed a female Secretary of State who's running for Vice President right now and is in a tight three way race for the top with Secretary Proper and Admiral Turner." Stacy set her mug down on the table.

"You think that Andrea Wallace has a chance at the Democratic nomination for Vice President?" Gunny questioned.

"She's got Washington, Oregon and New England locked up. She's in the lead with voters in New York and locked tight with Admiral Turner in California polling. I think she's got a chance if she can win New York and California." Stacy answered.

"Alright." The President ended that line of conversation. "So, you've got me talking about globalization with university students?"

1533 ZULU

US SUPREME COURT

WASHINGTON, DC

Mac walked into her office and gazed at the elegant décor. She could hardly believe that Justice William O. Douglas and Justice Louis Brandeis had both once occupied the space where she now stood. She just looked around; the hallowed halls of American Justice were now her place of work. She wondered if she'd ever get used to people calling her 'Madam Justice' or 'Justice Rabb'. She was supposed to get things set up today; she had to get fitted for her robes and interview clerks for the fall session that started in October.

She took a second to breathe it in. She had come a long way from kicking a habit at Red Rock Mesa; a long way from Parris Island; a long way from Joe MacKenzie. It was odd that this moment occasioned her to think of her deceased father but as she looked around at the wood panelled walls and elegant portraits of her predecessors, she couldn't help but think that she was putting her own footprint on history. "It's rather imposing, isn't it?" She heard a familiar old voice interrupt the silence. She turned to face Justice Stevenson.

"I never thought I'd be here." Mac told him. "It's all slightly intimidating."

"Oh, no, don't let it be intimidating." Justice Stevenson cautioned as he walked over to her. His form was shrunken due to his age but he still had the force of opinion of more then thirty years on the court. "I was never more proud of any recommendation I've ever made in my life then when I saw you in front of the Senate Judiciary Committee. Ours is a great and burdensome calling, you will anger your friends and your enemies with some rulings. The greatest test for any new justice on this bench is how well they survive the politics and the feuds. I came on here at the height of the feud between Burger and Brennan; you join the court at the height of the feud between Lazio and Meyer. Be true to yourself, Sarah. Don't let Meyer try to play upon you similarities to curry your favour and don't let Lazio brow beat you with the Bible in determining key Constitutional questions. Be fair, be impartial, but above all be firm in your conviction. Supreme Court Justices are more then arbiters of the Constitution, we're guardians of it. Your positions will be attacked by your former colleagues in academia, by Democrats and Republicans down the street and by other justices on that very bench." Justice Stevenson paused. "The best Justices, Sarah, the best ones, are marked by the amount of adversity they face and their ability to withstand it with their convictions and their decisions in tact."

"I really wish you could stay here and mentor me for just a little while you know that?" Mac humoured, putting a comforting hand on the shoulder of the ninety-one year old.

"My time is through, yours is just beginning. Make the most of it." He gave her a quick smile. The old man turned to walk slowly out of his old office. He took time to slowly examine the room before he was through the doorway. He stopped and looked back her through the thick black rims of his glasses. "Take good care of the place, would you? She's dear."

"I will." Mac nodded as the older man disappeared down the hall. She wondered for a second if other justices had felt this way when they watched their predecessors leave. If they felt that sad and solemn remorse for the loss of a good voice. She turned toward her desk where she found her name on a little sign with her title under it. She sunk into the large chair behind the desk for a second. She looked out the window of her office; she was the new Associate Justice on the United States Supreme Court. The 'junior justice' as the current members always referred to the new arrival.

Mac had met three of her new colleagues by now. They were the ones that it was likely she would be voting with. The senior Justice on the 'Liberal wing' of the court was Dan Sutton. All in all, Justice Sutton was a nice man with a pleasant demeanour. He was soft-spoken which fit his frame of five foot ten and his lanky build. He had a silver mane of hair that was long and parted to one side, though not in an effort to cove up a comb-over.

There was of course her counsel from the hearings, Justice Sam Meyer. The last remaining of her colleagues who had introduced themselves was Rita Hearn. Rita was the first African American woman to sit on the Supreme Court; she was a graduate (and classmate) of the President's from Penn State and she had done her Law School at Columbia. She had a reputation for being very strong on civil liberties but very tough on criminals. Mac felt a little out of place, the Supreme Court was usually the hotbed of Ivy League elites. Three of the current justices were Yale grads, three were Harvard grads, two were Columbia grads and one was from Dartmouth. Mac was the exception to the rule, she was a Duke grad; a Blue Devil in a realm of blue bloods.

"Madam Justice, it's time to fit you for your robes." Her assistant popped her head in the door and Mac just grinned.

1723 ZULU

CALIFORNIA COLLEGE DEMOCRATS CONFERENCE

SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA

Everyone in politics used to say that no one ever campaigned for the Vice Presidency. Those people obviously had shut up over the last three months because the hottest political news story was who the Democratic Party was going to pick for its Vice President in early July at the convention in San Antonio. Danny Proper was a red state favourite; a moderate former governor from Iowa was a dream for the Democrats on the plains states, especially now that he was the Treasury Secretary.

Then there was Andrea Wallace, the very liberal Secretary of State. She was from the Pacific Northwest which made her a favourite of the blue-staters who liked her ideology and liked the fact that they didn't have to push a New Englander on to the party in order to get someone that they liked, or at least agreed with. There was also the fact that she would be the second woman in history to receive her party's Vice Presidential nomination, which was a news story all its own.

Then there was Florida Governor Nolan McKinnon. McKinnon was something of an odd phenomenon. Traditional political knowledge of the state of Florida would dictate that no one as liberal as Nolan McKinnon could ever get elected out of that state. McKinnon not only got elected, he got re-elected with 58 percent of the vote. He had charisma but his campaign had a lot of problems with gaining momentum because he lived in Andrea Wallace's ideological shadow.

Sturgis' campaign was the scrappy insurgency, the dark horse in this race. He was a serious contender and he had a lot of appeal in the swing states, or just the big states. This was his seventh trip to California in the last three months, it was worth it though. California controlled 441 delegates at the Democratic National Convention, which may not seem like a lot considering that you need 2,162 delegates to secure the nomination but California's 441 is still double the Texas delegation which is the second largest. Sturgis was lucky, he had the Congressional Black Caucus behind him and they had set up his political network. It had put him on par with Wallace and McKinnon; Proper was way out in front of any of the other candidates though because of his years as Governor of Iowa and now Treasury Secretary, he captured most of the Blue Dog Caucus for his run.

Sturgis took to the podium and looked out over the faces of about 1,500 College Democrats from all over the state of California. "At Annapolis, my roommates were idiots." Sturgis started. "But when they crowd four guys into a room, you get to know each other pretty well an even after four months with these guys, they were still idiots." Sturgis continued and the crowd chuckled. "I had two friend who lusted after everything in a skirt and one friend, who liked this girl a lot, and she liked him and neither of them would act on it. One of my roommates, one of the ones who lusted after everything in a skirt, is now the Chief of Naval Operations at the Pentagon. The one who couldn't get up the nerve to ask the girl out, he's the Vice Chief of Naval Operations; he never did ask the girl out but he's married now with three kids. My other roommate is the Deputy Commander of the US Pacific Fleet.

My point is, that you never know just how great your potential is until you decide to live up to it. Greatness dwells in all of us but sadly the conditions and the potential for that greatness is the subject of unequal opportunity. I spent thirty years in the Navy but working class kids shouldn't have to choose between a McDonald's uniform and a military uniform if they want to obtain their dreams and use their potential. The American Dream is not for sale to the highest bidder." The room erupted into applause and Sturgis took a drink of water. "I was born into a Democratic family. At the time, it was because they were the only party reaching out for Civil Rights, the only party willing to try and put an end to the racism in the South. I grew up and I married a Democrat, because they're still the only party with their hand out to the African American community, to the Latino community and to working class communities all over this country.

Right now, we're the only party that's trying to make it so that university isn't just he providence of the rich. We're the only party trying to ease the burden of student loans so that fresh out of university graduates are capable of doing more with their paycheque then just getting by and paying down debt." There was more applause at this comment and Sturgis used it to take another drink of water.

"There are thirty thousand deaths in America every year from gun violence alone. The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms admits that only two of twenty-two federal gun laws are regularly enforced and that only around 2 percent of gun crimes in the United States are prosecuted. Gun control isn't about stopping hunters from hunting; it's about making it so that you can go from your car to the ATM without taking your life into your hands. States without 'safe storage' laws have the highest incidents of firearm theft. Yet, while they controlled the Congress, Republicans refused funding to ATF and FBI units to fight gun crime. This is about taking back our streets, this about making America safe and they fell asleep at the switch!" Sturgis charged. "If you vote at the convention to make me the Democratic nominee for Vice President; the President and I aren't going to let the same thing happen again!" The applause erupted again and Sturgis nodded his head. "Thank you, for inviting me here today and don't forget to vote!"

1819 ZULU

FERDINAND MAGELLAN

EN ROUTE TO CINCINNATI

"I will never know how he does it." Stacy shook her head as she joined Gunny and Charlie in the Dining Car. "I would have thought for sure that the President would be in trouble with some of the more hard-line economics questions but he went right through it with them."

"The man's a force of nature." Charlie laughed as he looked over the latest polls. "The President is polling well ahead of Burke nationally."

"How far ahead is _well ahead_?" Gunny asked, slightly weary.

"54 – 44." Charlie answered. "That could shrink once people get to know him. The Governor has a lot of favourability in the plains states.

"Favourability which is going to cascade against him if we pick Secretary Proper at the convention to be the Vice President." Gunny intervened. "Is he picking up steam in the south?"

"Not the big states." Charlie replied. "If the election were held today, we'd still carry Virginia, North Carolina and Florida with sizeable margins."

"He's leading in Georgia, Mississippi, Alabama and South Carolina?" Stacy asked.

Charlie nodded. "Tennessee is a statistical tie. We've got the lead in Louisiana, Arkansas, Missouri, Kentucky and Texas."

"If Admiral Turner gets the Vice Presidential nomination we can put a lock on those states and it puts Mississippi into play." Stacy theorized.

"A Democrat hasn't won Mississippi in a long time, what makes you think we'd stand a chance there?" Gunny furrowed his brow as the usher set his lunch in front of him.

"In 2008, the President won 88 percent of the African American vote and lost Mississippi in spite of the fact that Mississippi is forty percent African American. It's also ten percent Hispanic. If we send you and the Vice President there for the last week, we only need to convince about ten percent of white voters to vote for us." Stacy explained.

"Did you ever think that you would see the day when Mississippi is a swing state?" Charlie questioned.

"Well, that's only if Turner gets the nomination, which is far from being a lock at this point. I think both Wallace and Proper have the inside track on him." Gunny took a spoonful of the soup of the day. "I want to know how Henri can make Clam Chowder like this on a moving train."

"The French have their ways." Stacy mused. "The DSCC has done a damn good job finding candidates for the Senate races this year. We could knock off Republican Senators from Minnesota, Colorado, New Hampshire, Nevada, Florida and Iowa."

"Sixty-five Democrats in the Senate would give the GOP a heart attack." Gunny chuckled as he took a sip of his coffee. "We've got a good grip on the House, too."

"What's on tap for the event in Cincinnati?" Charlie was checking out the ZNN website on his laptop.

"We're going to meet up with the Governor, do a little retail politics at some Mom and Pop shops downtown and then we've got a town hall at a high school before we get back on the train and head for Kentucky." Gunny answered.

"Where the President will be judging the Henry Clay Chili cook off in Lexington tonight." Stacy looked down at the page. "I died a little inside when I had to read that."

"Who decided to book him on these bonehead jobs? This is the President of the United States, for Christ's sake!" Charlie gave his head a hard shake.

"Kat did, she said it keeps us in touch with the heartland and it allows the President the opportunity to talk to people who aren't Democrats or sycophants." Gunny replied as he slid the bowl across the table and wiped his mouth. "Which is always a good thing, the President does better when he can be normal then when we try to handle him."

"That's because there's only one person in the world who can actually handle the President." Stacy replied. "We only call her as a last result." The First Lady was notoriously good at motivating her husband, partly because she was the only person in the country who wasn't Constitutionally required to take his crap.

"We finish tomorrow night at Notre Dame, right?" Charlie double checked as he reached across the table and plucked the schedule from Stacy's hands.

"You think that might be a problem?" Gunny asked while he poured himself another cup of coffee.

"No, but I think that we're going to be in Chicago a day earlier then we originally planned." Charlie replied. "Not bad, we might be able to spend an extra day in California if we keep this pace up."

2012 ZULU

ST. GREGORY'S

WASHINGTON, DC

The boys got their hockey equipment out of the storage locker and walked through the hallways toward the bus that was supposed to take them to hockey practice at the rink. For the age of nine, the Ross boys were tall; all of them were over four feet with Jack the tallest and Brad tied with Tim for shortest. Each one had their equipment bags over their shoulder and their sticks in hand. They walked down the stairs to the doors and awaited the rest of the team. Jack and Brad dropped their bags and began to duel with their sticks.

"Athos! Porthos!" A familiar female voice called. Sasha Rabb walked over to her friends. "Heading out to play Baltimore for State?"

"Yes, ma'am." Tim answered for the group.

"I always thought it was odd that there were no girls on the hockey team." Sasha mused.

"That's because there's a jockstrap involved." Jack answered and his two brothers whacked him in the gut.

"You'll have to excuse Jack." Brad took over.

"Yeah, he's a moron." Tim completed the thought. "There are no girls on the team because none tried out."

"So, if I wanted to try out…" Sasha hinted. Brad and Tim broke out into restrained laughter. "What's so funny?"

"You can't skate, Sasha." Tim replied. "You could try out, but you're not going to make the team if you can't stand up on your skates."

"Thanks, Tim. Because I had no idea of the basic concept of what hockey was before you told me that." She rolled her eyes. "Why do we call you guys 'the Warriors' anyway?"

"I have no earthly idea." Brad shook his head. "How you doin' Jack?" He turned to face his brother who was still trying to catch his breath from having been whacked in the stomach earlier. His brother gave him a thumbs up. "He's a trooper, he'll make it.

"Moron." Jack gasped out.

"See, he's fine." Tim saw a few more of their team-mates come down the hall. "You gonna come watch us play? You're kind of a good luck charm for me. Every game you've come to a game this year, I've put at least two goals in the net."

"I don't think that has as much to do with me coming to the game as it does with the fact that at age nine you have a thirty mile an hour slap-shot." Sasha complimented. "Which one of you leads the team in points?"

"Brad." Jack and Tim answered, slightly annoyed. Not that Sasha should have been surprised, each of the boys had their own characteristics and when it came to Bradley Ross, the ability to manipulate a hockey puck and the forces of gravity around it was part of his gift. Each of the boys was his own distinct personality, something that seemed particularly odd for triplets. Brad Ross was the pretty boy, not particularly smart or particularly talented outside of a hockey rink but a school hero because in one twenty game season he had racked up twenty-six goals and thirty-four assists. Jack was the one that everyone got along with; he played on the school hockey and football teams. Again, like Brad, he wasn't the brains in the family but he was a nice, well intentioned guy who seemed to have the basic goals of not making enemies.

Tim Ross was different then his brothers. Hell, he was different then most boys his age. He was tall, for a nine year old; he was a very smart young man, a gifted athlete and along with Sasha herself, one of only two students at the school able to speak Russian. Of course, he looked different from his brothers as well. Jack and Brad were both fair-skinned with light brown hair. Tim was olive skinned, likely from his mother's Italian heritage, and his hair was far darker. He also had that coy grin, that one that made her feel like every smile was just for her.

"So, are you going to come to the game or not?" He challenged.

"Depends, do you think that you could teach me how to skate afterward?" She toyed with him.

"Why not." There was that damn grin. It wasn't a thousand watts; it was more subtle, more understated. Damn Ross. "You have to promise not to hit me if I laugh though. And you have to try to help me swing it with Secret Service."

"Hey, I promise nothing, Timmy." She replied, her big doe brown eyes sparkling for sympathy. He moved closer to her to whisper.

"You can't call me that in front of the guys!" He reprimanded. "Seriously, do you have any idea how badly I'm going to be made fun of in the dressing room?"

"Aren't you the Assistant Captain?" She nudged his shoulder.

"Yeah." He affirmed.

"Well, grow a backbone, you wimp!" She charged. "Seriously, I'll see you at the rink in about an hour and a half or so." He gave her a hug.

"That's the only time I'm going to do that in front of the entire team." He whispered.

"I know." She nodded.

"Tim! Get your butt over here, you're holding up the bus!" Jack shouted.

"Gotta go." He grinned again.

"Go get'em." She encouraged. Tim bounded out the door of the school and up on to the bus with his gear. He slung his bag down at his feet.

"Hey, T-Bone! Not going to kiss your girlfriend goodbye?" One of the guys on the team cajoled.

"Come on, Andre." Tim replied. "She's not my girlfriend; I've known her as long as I can remember. She's like uh…like uh…like uh…"

"Like uh, what, little brother?" Brad questioned.

"You're only older by like five minutes, idiot." Tim challenged. "She's like a cousin or something."

"Yeah, a kissing cousin!" Jack was egging the rest of the team on. "Now, Tim, you've got to get your head in the game. No thinking of skirts."

"Jack, you really are a caveman sometimes, you know that?" Tim answered his brother. "You should probably focus on ending that goal-scoring drought you've been on lately." Jack was taken aback and became instantly silent.

2102 ZULU

US SUPREME COURT

WASHINGTON, DC

Mac walked back from her robe fitting and her clerk interviews. Between cloaks and clerks she had never realized how agonizing a day could be without actually hearing any arguments. She sunk back down in her chair in her office. She turned on Windows Media Player and let a few good folk rock tunes take over to gently waft her anxieties down to a far more acceptable level. She rubbed her eyes. Forty-three and a Justice on the Supreme Court, which made her one of the youngest in history.

She had a folio of the decisions that the court had handed down before adjourning last week. She thought of the atmosphere of her new job. In a lot of ways, the Court was its own little High School class. There was one clique and the other clique. The popular kids were the ones who made one clique's numbers numerically superior to the other and allowed them to control the balance of the Court. New kids on the court were not shunned; they were courted, if one could pardon the pun.

"Justice Rabb, ma'am." Mac's assistant Claire poked her head in the door. "Justice Finnerty to see you, ma'am."

"Oh, send him in, Claire." Mac nodded and turned down the volume on her computer. Mac got up out of her chair and strode over to the door. Justice Adam Finnerty walked in. He was a comparatively tall man, at slightly over six feet. His thin rimmed bifocal spectacles were perched academically on the end of his nose. His slightly receding line of short thinning grey hair made him a noble sight befitting his sixty-seven years. "Good to finally meet you, Justice Finnerty."

"Oh please, Justice Rabb, if you can call Justice Meyer 'Sam', then surely you can call me 'Adam'." That old Irishman's charm was a natural occurrence for a man of his years.

"Well, then you can call me Sarah, but most people call me 'Mac'." Mac shook his hand lightly.

"You're a Supreme Court Justice; it would be entirely unfitting to refer to you as Mac. Though I imagine both Sam and myself will be guilty of using the nickname from time to time." He chuckled lightly. "How are you finding your first day?" The two of them moved over to the leather armchairs in the office.

"I almost think there are more politics in this building then there are down the street." Mac replied with a bright smile.

"Because there are." Justice Finnerty answered. "This building sees all the fights that the politicians are to chicken to bring to the floor of Congress. The system was designed that way. They don't bring up the fights, we do. We decide the fight, then half of Congress decries us for making the wrong decision and the other half affirms its belief in an independent judiciary. We have lifetime appointments, so we can't be impeached for our rulings and they can get re-elected. The fingers of Congress are long indeed."

"Very maniacal, Adam." Mac grinned, very comfortable with her new colleague. "You've been the most independent minded jurist on this bench for the last twenty years."

"Of course, not all cases are decided by one philosophy or another. You take all the textualists, all the constructionists, all the originalists and all the activists and you put them in a room and you have a people so controlled by adherence that they limit their perspective. An independent mind is the only mind worth having." Adam Finnerty intertwined his fingers. "He may have been a liberal, but one thing I will say about your predecessor is that Ron Stevenson had the most independent mind of any judge sitting on this bench right now."

"He was never the swing vote like you have been from time to time though." Mac pointed out.

"That's true, but even in the majority, as the Senior Justice, he never wrote the opinion that the rest wanted him to write. There were a lot of concurring opinions during his tenure." Adam Finnerty smiled fondly. "Have you talked to Justices DiLorenti, Lazio Thompson or the Chief Justice yet?"

"No, the conservative members of the court have yet to grace my door." Mac looked down at the red carpet at their feet.

"Don't get caught up in this feud between Lazio and Meyer. The politics of that will drive you insane." The two of them laughed. "You're writing that book; Hugo Black, Harry Blackmun, Potter Stewart and even Brennan himself all stood as swing votes during their first little while on the court until they learned how to play the politics."

"This job is half politician, half jurist then?" Mac questioned.

"Well, isn't everything in Washington?" Adam replied.

2155 ZULU

D STREET RINK

WASHINGTON, DC

The St. Gregory's Warriors took to the ice. The previous week they had won the semi-final game which had earned them their place in today's State Championship game. Winning this, would give the school the right to represent the State at the National Championship Tournament out in Los Angeles next month. The first two periods had been hard fought with St. Sebastian's Condors out of Baltimore. The score was 3-2 for St. Gregory's. In the first period, Brad had scored on a breakaway but the Condors had answered back with a powerplay goal. The Warriors' second line had contributed the second and third goals but the Condors had drawn within a goal on an odd-man rush in the dying seconds of the second period.

Tim Ross bent over his stick in the face-off circle. The guy from St. Sebastian's was almost a foot taller then he was and at least three years older. Not that that was a problem, it was well within the rules. Tim laid the blade of his stick on to the blue ice of the face-off dot and waited for the puck drop. The little black discus fell to the ice and Tim drew it over to Brad at Right Wing. His brother broke out into full speed as he drove for the Condor net. Using a move that they had practised at home, Brad dragged the puck behind him. The Condor defender was fighting him for every stride, trying to force him off the puck. Brad flipped it back in front of the net where Tim had his stick drawn back and blasted a shot on net.

The puck ricocheted off the post and over into the corner where Brad was waiting to pick it up. He spun to his right keeping the stick tight into his body to control the puck. He stick handled masterfully around both Condor defenders before flipping a backhander under the crossbar of the net and over the goalie's shoulder to make it 4-2. 'Mad Dog' Brad was en route for another hat trick and another 'Player of the Game' award if he continued with moves like that.

The Condors' coach called his players over to the bench. They were bigger and older then the Warriors from St. Gregory's, there was a way to take back the advantage in this game and that was to step up the physical play. When the play resumed, the bigger Condors did just that. With the Ross line on the bench, the Warriors got driven into the boards by the bigger Baltimore team. The Condors were able to control the play and concentrate it around the Warrior net. Within five minutes of play, the score was tied at 4-4.

In the stands, Sasha Rabb sat with the First Lady and the members of the Secret Service detail that followed members of the family wherever they went. She had some school spirit; she wanted to see the Warriors win but most of all she wanted to see her friends happy. She'd never say that Tim was cute, she was nine and boys were still 'icky'. But the closest he ever got to being remotely cute to her was in his hockey gear, his hair mussed with sweat. That was it, that was as close as he got.

The Ross line took to the ice again. The beads of sweat trickled off young Tim Ross' nose as he looked up at the opposing centre again and awaited the puck drop. This time, he was still faster off the draw, having slid the puck back between his legs to Jack on defence but he was bowled over by the Condors' centre. Tim regained his footing and chased the play back into his own zone. Jack and Brad were grappling with three Condors along the boards for control of the puck when it squeaked out in front of their own net. Tim got control of it and fired it down the ice for an icing call.

The face-off came back down into the Warriors' zone and the Warriors changed the shift to bring five fresh pairs of legs out on to the ice. Tim and Brad sat next to each other on the bench. "We've got to do something to catch these guys." Brad gasped out.

"Yeah, but what?" Tim questioned, downing what was left in his water bottle.

"We gotta make'em look foolish, Tim." Brad answered. "The only way we know how. We've got to skate them into the ground." A few more minutes passed and soon it was the last shift of the game and the Ross line took to the ice for the last time. Tim won the face off and sent the puck over to Brad who retreated behind the Warriors' net. Tim came around behind the net and Brad passed the puck to him. Tim raced up the left boards while Brad kept stride for stride with him. Just as it looked as though he was going to run headlong into a defender, Tim sent the puck forward to Brad who raced in on the Condor goal, a defenseman hot on his heels. Brad began to deke more frantically as they got closer to the net. The Condor defenseman, perhaps realizing that he couldn't catch the faster skater used his long stick to slash at Brad's legs and send him to the ice.

The play was whistled dead with no time left on the clock. Tim and Jack both rushed over to their fallen brother who was rolling on the ice, gripping the back of his knee. "How are you, Brad?" Jack asked.

"I'm in pain, you idiot. How do you think I feel?" Brad winced. Tim and Jack slowly helped him to his feet and back to the bench. The referee pointed to centre ice to indicate a penalty shot. Brad couldn't take it; his leg was set to bruise up for a couple of days. The team selected Tim to take the shot. Tim lined up on the blue line, well behind the puck which was on the centre ice dot. He bent over, leaning on his stick. The referee blew his whistle. Tim took one look up at the crowd. He saw his mom sitting there with Sasha and a crowd of about sixty kids from school who were all cheering his name. He grinned to himself. He launched after the puck, quickly moving to his left to throw the goalie off his angle. As he crossed the Condor blue-line he pushed the puck forward and reared back with his stick, throwing all his weight into a ferocious slap-shot. Almost like a missile, the puck went right into the top corner of the net under the crossbar and the red light behind the net went on to indicate a goal.

The St. Gregory's bench emptied and Tim's team-mates mauled him as they all took to the ice. After the teams shook hands and the trophies were presented, the two teams vacated the ice. Sasha met Tim by the door to the ice. "So, Mr. Hero, still think you have enough energy to teach me how to skate?" She playfully punched him in the shoulder. Tim peeled off his hockey helmet and there was that damn grin again. To her, he was almost not icky, _almost_.


	44. The Good Old Hockey Game

_A/N: If you like this chapter, and we hope you do, we've already started working on the third story in the trilogy (while certainly not neglecting this one mind you). The third one involves the kids. We've tailored the premise from our original intent a little to deal with subject matter with which we are more familiar. If you're interested, let us know!_

The trek across the prairies over the last three weeks had been fun. They'd gone through Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, Missouri, Nebraska, South Dakota, North Dakota, Montana, Washington and Oregon before finally arriving here in San Jose, California for the National Minor Hockey Association Championship. The President was supposed to drop the puck at the big game at the end of the tournament. Forty-eight of the fifty states participated, only Mississippi and Hawaii didn't. He never dreamed that his boys would be participating in the tournament, much less that they would get to the championship. He hated to admit that he hadn't seen as many of their games as he would have liked to. He felt the boys understood that sometimes being President didn't allow him the opportunity to do everything he wanted.

The boys were in a tough conference. Michigan, New York, Ohio and Massachusetts all had bigger and older squads. Maryland had never gotten passed the quarters stage in this tournament until this year, today they were getting ready to play Michigan in the Eastern Conference final game for a chance to go up against the heavily favoured Colorado team in the tournament finale tomorrow. Gunny and Stacy picked up coffees from the concession here at the HP Pavilion Arena and were leaning on a railing staring down at the ice. "Does it strike you as odd, that in the middle of April, in Sunny California, we're freezing our asses off in a hockey arena?" Stacy blew on the surface of the coffee to cool it off.

"Hey, it's good for us; it keeps us on our own message. We get to talk about physical fitness, teamwork, American values and confronting the obesity problem in this country. Active kids, healthy country." Gunny took a sip of his coffee.

"Tell me that you didn't have Kat put that in the press release." Stacy laughed.

"Not in those words exactly, but that's the theme of the message. We put the Republicans on the defensive right out of the gate. We went after crime, we went after terrorism and now we're going after the obesity crisis." Gunny explained. "I don't want the President to take out the really big guns until Governor Burke takes a swing at him."

"And then?" Stacy questioned. Gunny paused for a second before continuing.

"The President has an I.Q of 171, if we let him off the leash on a few issues, he can tear Governor Burke from stem to sternum. Right now, we've got four people out on the campaign trail who are confronting Governor Burke on the issues and they're only gunning for the VP slot on the ticket." He replied. "Now, can you explain this hockey thing to me? I grew up in New Mexico; there isn't a hockey rink for miles."

"Alright, well each line is made up of five players; a right and left winger along with the centre, they're the forwards and there are two defensemen. Each team has a goalie on the ice. The aim is pretty simple, it's to shoot the puck passed the goalie and score as many goals as you can. An icing occurs when you fire the puck, from your teams' end of the ice across the goal-line at the other end. The play is whistled dead and there's a face-off in your own zone." Stacy took another sip of her coffee. "If you have any more questions, just feel free to ask."

"He'll have more questions." Harmon Rabb came up behind the two of them.

"Admiral! What are you doing here on the coast?" Gunny smiled trying not to act like a kid you just had his hand caught in the cookie jar, he slyly moved it from the small of her back.

"I was on a trip from out Naval Base in Bremerton down to San Diego. I didn't have to be there until Monday and since Sasha wanted to come with me, I figured we could stop by here and catch today's big game." Harm replied with a grin. "I think Mac went to find Nicole…I mean, the First Lady."

"Sir, if you're friends with her, I don't think anyone's going to call you on the protocol." Stacy intervened. "I'm guessing your kids are with their mom?"

"Yeah." Harm nodded. "Where's the President?"

"He's giving the team a pep talk and a gift before the big game." Gunny answered, his eyes searching over a mental list of the President's schedule. "Then he's going to be calling the game with the guys from ESPN."

"It doesn't strike the two of you as odd that ESPN is calling a minor hockey game?" Harm questioned, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Admiral, I've learned that when it comes to the First Family, the media is willing to sacrifice just about anything to get access. Why should the sports networks be any different?" Gunny tossed the empty coffee cup into the trash. "On the plus side, these are the best hockey players that the country has to offer in their age bracket, so, it's not like it's going to be a slow and boring game."

"Yeah, well, we'll see about that." Harm grinned

SAME TIME

HP PAVILION

SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA

The President kneeled in the dressing room tying his son's skates. It made for an odd scene but he enjoyed it nonetheless, he missed the opportunity to be just a regular hockey dad. He had three pairs of hockey skates to tie and once he was done tying Jack's he was done. He gave Jack a pat on his shin guards before standing in the centre of the room. He looked around at the kids in the room. "How many of you know who I am?" He asked and all the kids in the room raised their hands. "That's good." Nate chuckled. "I asked your coach if I could give the pep talk today and he thought it was a good idea. I don't know why." The President scratched his brow. "1978." He started. "That's the last time that Maryland went to the championship game in this tournament. You guys have a chance to do something that hasn't been done in thirty-four years; you can be Eastern Conference Champions. Your parents, your friends, the State of Maryland, they're all proud of you already, it doesn't matter what happens out on the ice today. Michigan is bigger and they're older and everyone says you guys are the underdog. Bigger and older doesn't mean a single thing on the ice, for the sixty minutes you're out there, the ice makes you all equal. Now, before I leave, I've got a little present for you guys." The President let out a whistle and Morley and Charlie came walking in with two big boxes.

"I know that until now, you guys have been the Warriors. But you're from D.C. and in Washington we take a lot of pride in being the Capital." The boxes were opened to reveal a set of old Washington Capitals blue visitors' jerseys; the ones that had the streaking Eagle on the front. Each kid had their name on the back of the jersey. "Now, go out there and give it a 110 percent, okay fellas?"

"Yeah!" The kids all cheered as they took their jerseys out of the box and slid them on over their shoulder-pads. The President, Charlie and Morley exited the room with the Secret Service and head through the inner channels of the arena. The President had a hard time understanding why a kid's hockey game deserved a media spectacle, normally this thing was broadcast on ESPN 5 and the commentators were two fans that they pulled out of the stands at the last minute. "Why is there a media circus around this?"

"Because your kids are a national human interest story in everything that they do. If they were the singing and dancing Brady kids, they'd be an interest story. If they were Mathletes, that would be a story, too but because your kids play a sport, sir, especially because they're good at it, they're a story." Charlie answered.

"Besides, it's a Michigan-Maryland game." Morley added.

"Somehow, I feel like that's supposed to mean something." The President turned toward his Communications Director.

"It's a big rivalry, sir. They've played each other in the elimination rounds at twenty-eight of the last thirty tournaments." Morley continued.

"You played for Michigan when you were younger, didn't you?" Charlie rolled his eyes.

"What's it to you?" Morley challenged.

"Easy, you two." The President laughed as they neared the press box. Nate tapped on the door and it was opened. Immediately everyone inside got to their feet when they saw the President. "You know, I've had this job for three and a half years and I still can't get over the fact that people do that when I walk into a room."

"How are you, sir?" One of the announcers asked.

"You know, I can't believe that they're finally letting me go to one of my kids' hockey games. Now, let's just hope that no one invades anyone else in the next hour or so and I can actually watch the game." The President put on a genuine smile, for the first time in a while. He'd spent the last three weeks dazzling and inspiring crowds across America's heartland but it didn't matter what state he was in right now, because he was going to finally get the chance to sit down and watch his kids play some hockey.

"Alright, sir, we're coming back from commercial now." One of the announcers told the President as he took a seat between them.

"And we're back in five…four…three…two…" The producer motioned to the commentators.

"I'm Paul Romanuk here with Gary Greene and we've got a special guest with us here in the booth, the President of the United States, whose three sons are going to be playing for Maryland in today's game." The one, shorter, balder and thinner commentator introduced. "Mr. President, it's an honour to have you here with us."

"Great to be here, Paul. Should be a great game." The President's smile was at a full thousand watts.

"You must be awful proud of your boys for getting to this stage." The older, plumper commentator asked.

"Indeed I am, Gary. The boys work very hard but it's just a blast to see them doing something that they enjoy. It's a way for them to just have fun being kids." The President answered.

"Well, in the fifteen games that they've played in the tournament so far, Mr. President, they've racked up some impressive statistics. Your son Bradley leads the tournament with 13 goals and 19 assists; your son Tim has leads the tournament in face-off percentage, winning 80 percent of his face-offs and the other team has yet to score a goal during shift when your son Jack is on the blue-line." Paul explained.

"The boys practice day and night, it's good for them to see that practice pays off. Sometimes that's the hardest message to get through as a parent." Nate replied.

"What's say we get to the game, sir?" The commentator Gary stated.

"Sounds like a great idea." The President answered.

1730 ZULU

HP PAVILION

SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA

Gunny and Stacy joined the growing circle of people in the private box that the owner of the arena had set aside for the First Family. Mac and Nicole were in deep conversation with each other, laughing like old friends. Well, they had known each other for a decade or so, in a way, that made them old friends. The two White House staffers took their seats and waited for the game to start. "Hey, Mac! There's a buffet back here!" Harm was standing at the back of the private box with his son Tommy and little Harry Ross.

"I noticed that when we first got here, Harm." Mac called back over to her husband.

"Well, I didn't!" Gunny practically leapt out his chair and headed for the buffet. One thing about working this closely with the President was that you got to know his family pretty well. Gunny perched Harry Ross on his shoulders and the child set his plate on top of Gunny's head while the former Marine collected his food.

Back in their seats, the girls were chatting away when Sasha Rabb decided to interrupt their conversation. "Mom, what happens when boys aren't icky any more?" Sasha asked and that immediately made Mac, Stacy and Nicole very silent. Mac looked up to see if the question had alerted Harm. Thankfully, it hadn't.

"Well, that just means you're growing up, Sasha." Mac answered ambiguously. "Boys, aren't going to be…icky forever." Mac granted her daughter a maternal grin. "You're dad's not icky."

"No, dad's alright but then again, he's smarter then most boys." Sasha pointed out. Mac and Harm had raised a very smart daughter. In spite of being eleven months younger then the Ross boys, she had been skipped up a grade and shared a class with them since Grade Two.

"And what about your Uncles like Gunny and Sturgis and Bax and Nate and Keeter?" Mac questioned.

"Well, Uncle Sturgis is smart, like dad, so he's okay. Uncle Bax only grew up once he married Aunt Jen." Sasha continued, which caused Stacy and Nicole to laugh. "Uncle Keeter will never grow up; Uncle Nate is the President, which is really cool; and Gunny's not icky, but that's partly because Stacy helps make him cool." The nine year old had an uncanny knack for creating tension without meaning to.

"Mac, you really know how to raise a daughter, you know that?" Stacy was grinning broadly.

"Well, Harm had something to do with it." Mac smiled.

"I had something to do with what?" Harm asked as he took a seat.

"Raising the kids, Harm." Mac rolled her eyes when she saw that Tommy had barbecue sauce all over his face. She glared at he husband.

"Kids will be kids, Mac." He shrugged his shoulders.

"We also discovered that I'm the reason that you're cool." Stacy chuckled at Gunny who followed Harm over to the plush seats.

"Says who?" Gunny challenged, Harry Ross still perched on his shoulders.

"Says me!" Sasha Rabb responded.

"I'd give up, Gunny, we're outnumbered." Harm counselled. Gunny lowered Harry off his shoulders and into a seat before taking a seat himself. The two teams were out on the ice doing their pre-game drills. Everyone around her could see Nicole Ross glow with pride when her boys were featured on the jumbo-tron.

"I thought they were the Warriors?" Harm questioned, noting the royal blue 'CAPITALS' jerseys that the team was wearing.

"The President thought that the kids had earned a present." Gunny answered.

"Victor, you're my husband's closest friend, you don't have to refer to him by his job title all the time." Nicole lectured.

"Due respect ma'am; until 65 million people vote for me, I absolutely do." Gunny answered.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, would you please rise for the singing of our national anthem." The announcer's voice boomed through the arena and the crowd got to their feet.

SAME TIME

HP PAVILION

SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA

The players for either team lined up on the blue-lines, with their helmets off, to pay respect to the anthem. Tim and Brad had their heads down trying to get into the game that they had to play. On skates, each boy was nearly five feet. Brad's longer light brown hair hung in strands over his face. Tim let out a heavy breath as the song was drawing to a close. He stared up at the opposite end of the arena where Old Glory hung in all her majesty. As the anthem concluded, the players tapped their sticks on the ice and put their helmets back on.

Tim skated into the face-off circle. He always loved the old blue Capitals jerseys with the Eagle on the front. He cast a quick glace down at the black 'A' over his left chest before staring down at the blue face-off dot. The Michigan centre was about his height, a little heavier set; on the ice, Tim knew that gave him the advantage of speed. He leaned over on his stick as the ref stood between him and his counterpart from Michigan. The puck fell from the hand of the referee on to the ice. Tim drew it back to Jack at defence.

Jack moved up back toward the centre line before sending a pass across the ice to Brad. A notorious roadrunner on a pair of hockey skates, Brad broke free of the Michigan defenseman and skated furiously toward the Michigan net. Out of the corner of his eye, Brad saw Tim gunning for the net, only about one or two strides behind himself. Brad broke hard to his left and turned to his side. He fired a quick pass across in front of the net to him who threw his shot in with conviction. 1- 0, Maryland was leading.

"Ross from Ross." Harm mused up in the private box that overlooked centre ice. "How much do they practice, Nicole?"

"They wanted to ice over the White House pool to make a skating rink if that answers your question." Nicole answered. "They appealed my decision to the highest authority." She chuckled.

"The President?" Mac asked.

"Their grandmother." Nicole affirmed.

Back on the ice, the boys shift was over and they went to the bench. "Looks like we're firing on all cylinders." Brad cheered as he reached for his water bottle.

"Yeah, even Jack got a point on that play." Tim mused as he grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat off the back of his neck.

"Hey, I heard that!" Jack shouted.

"That's because I wasn't whispering, moron!" Tim retorted. They watched the play intently so that they could find some weaknesses in the Michigan goalie. The boys got six shifts in the first period and by the end of the first, the score was 2-1 for Maryland. There was a five minute break between the periods; the goalies skated to the net and the other end of the ice and the coaches called their players in to work on strategy for the next period. Tim, Brad and Jack took to the ice for the opening shift. It wasn't until halfway through the second period that the Maryland offence broke out again.

After a team-mate garnered a two minute tripping penalty, Maryland was down one skater of Michigan's five. While killing penalties, Tim moved back to defence with Jack and Brad took the face-offs. Brad lost the draw and Michigan controlled the puck. They began to work a passing play around the boards, boxing in the Maryland defenders around the net. A Michigan defenseman addressed the puck and the blue-line and teed up a shot. He let it loose and Jack blocked it with his shin guard. The puck squirted out of the Maryland zone and soon Brad was in a foot race for it. The quick right-handed forward was like a cheetah after its prey. He caught the puck and around centre ice and got a breakaway against the Michigan net

It was just Brad Ross against the Michigan goalie. The slick Maryland Capitals player kept the puck out in front of him as he crossed the Michigan blue-line. He pump faked a shot to the goalie's glove side and drew the puck to his backhand. With a quick flick of the wrist, the puck snaked into the net over the goalie's pad making the score 3-1 for Maryland and that's just how the game would end. Maryland won the Eastern Conference Final Match and the right to play Colorado in the big game the next day.

1946 ZULU

HP PAVILION

SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA

Nate was grinning while he mussed his son's hair. Brad Ross had racked up another three points today, putting his tournament total at 15 goals and 20 assists, well ahead of any competition for Tournament Leading Scorer, which meant that he at least was assured a trophy tomorrow. Tim, Jack and Brad were going to fight for the shower when they got back to the hotel room, that was for sure, they were sweating something fierce. "You stink, Timmy." Sasha walked over, pinching the end of her nose shut.

"Hey, I scored a goal; you have to be nice to me." Tim protested.

"Brad scored two, should I be nicer to him?" Sasha questioned.

"See, this is why I can't beat you at word games, you're too quick." Tim brought out that damn grin again. She hated him for that. Life was so much easier when boys were gross, if Tim was not gross, and then what did that mean? Could boys actually be normal? She shook her head at that thought, it certainly wasn't possible. Tim was her best friend, sure, but she kind of treated him they way you treated the loyal dog that you really liked and always treated well but never thought was human.

"You played well, too." She smiled at him impishly. Her knees felt weak, that was a new sensation. There was definitely something wrong here, she'd make sure to talk to mom when they got back to the hotel.

"Sasha!" Harm came running after his daughter. "What did I tell you about doing that?"

"Not to." His daughter replied quickly.

"Then why did you do it?" Harm crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Because you take too long, dad." Sasha answered. "Besides, someone from school needed to congratulate these guys."

"Thanks, Sasha." Brad ran a hand through his hair. The limo pulled up to the back entrance and the Secret Service alerted the President. Who nodded and tapped his sons on their shoulders.

"Huey! Dewey! Louie! Get your butts in gear!" He motioned for the door and the boys dragged their heels toward the door. First Jack climbed in, then Brad; Tim was left standing in the hallway.

"See you at the game tomorrow?" He chanced.

"I'll be here but then mom's taking me and my brothers back home." Sasha answered. "You're lucky it's an early game." She smiled sincerely. "You guys might be heading home on the same flight."

"I think we are." Tim rolled his eyes. "See you then?"

"Yeah." She nodded. Finally their eyes broke and Tim headed for the car. Sasha walked away back to meet up with the rest of her family, her father right by her side.

Outside, the President was standing with Gunny and Stacy for the last few seconds before the motorcade prepared to roll away from the HP Pavilion. "Alright, sir, tonight we're going to go over…" Gunny started but the President cut him off.

"I've got a better idea." The President held up his hand. "The two of you have been working your collective asses off for the last month. So, you're going to go back to the hotel, find the nicest outfit you own and you're going to take one of the limos and head to San Francisco for dinner tonight. I booked you a table at Acquerello, a friend of mine is singing their tonight, you'll love it." The President ducked into the limo and rolled down the window. "I'm not kidding, the two of you need to have fun."

"Yes, sir but room service is fun." Gunny replied. After hearing that remark, the First Lady poked her head out the window too.

"Victor, if you seriously believe that, you not only need to have fun, you need to have your head examined." She chuckled. "Now, he's not kidding," she pointed to her husband, "you two, take the limo, head into San Francisco and have fun."

"Yes, ma'am." Stacy grinned and nodded. The two of them got into one of the Suburbans that followed the limo. "If both of them give us an order, there's no we can say no, is there?"

"Not if we like our jobs." Gunny adjusted his seatbelt. "You never know, food that doesn't taste like a processed TV dinner might actually be good for us."

"If my stomach can remember that it's food." Stacy deadpanned.

0357 ZULU

ACQUERELLO

SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA

The limousine pulled up to the restaurant. Gunny got out first and held the door open for her. He took her by the hand and helped her step out of the limo. "I did tell you that you look fantastic, right?" He asked quickly.

"Yes, several times." She smiled quickly, not trying to give away too many emotions. While he opted for a very stylish suit from Saville Row, she was elegant in a designer dress that he was sure she had bought while in Georgetown shopping one day. He couldn't for the life of him remember the designer. They walked into the restaurant and up to the Maitre'd.

"Two for Galindez." Gunny told them. The Maitre'd nodded, marked off the reservation in his book and led them to a table on the terrace. It was unseasonably warm in San Francisco for April. Jazz musicians were setting up on the other side of the terrace. There was a double bass, a drum-set and at this moment a team of waiters was wheeling out the piano. Once they had it in place, they set up the microphone. "I wonder who's singing?"

"The President said it was a friend of his." Stacy was examining the menu.

"He's the President of the United States, during this campaign alone 2 million people have donated money to the Committee to Re-Elect, he's got a lot of friends. Most of them here in California are popular entertainers." Gunny filled her in as he turned pages in the menu. "And he's got an 88 percent approval rating in the Bay Area."

"You really have to stop hanging out with Charlie and Mitch." Stacy chuckled. One of the restaurant employees approached the table.

"My name is Giancarlo, it's a pleasure to meet the two of you." He bowed his head to them. "This wine was suggested by your friend who booked the reservation, a classic Barolo with a full body and excellent nose." Giancarlo continued explaining the origins of the wine. Stacy tapped Gunny on the shoulder and pointed out to the bay where the lights twinkled brightly in the slowly enveloping night. The two of them grinned, neither sure whether an evening out that your boss ordered you to take could be qualified as a date. Once Giancarlo was done explaining the rather gruelling biography of the wine, he was ready to take their orders.

"I'll have the herb roasted veal loin." Gunny closed the menu and handed it to Giancarlo.

"Carnivore." Stacy joked. "I'll have the parmesan budino with seasonal vegetables."

"Very good." Giancarlo bowed to them slightly again before heading back inside. The two of them looked into each other's eyes quickly. Stacy reached across the table and laid one hand on top of his.

"You know, if this was a date, it would be both really romantic and really cheesy." Gunny suddenly felt the heat rise, which was odd because at that moment there was a cool breeze off the bay.

"You know, it isn't a date," she started, "but that doesn't change the fact that it's really romantic." Their eyes were locked. This was the point when he normally just kissed the girl but this was Stacy. Smooth, soft, sexy Stacy; images of her in various states of undress flooded his mind. He closed his eyes attempting to will the thoughts from his head. "Is something wrong?" She asked, slightly worried.

"When I decide, I'll tell you." He answered cryptically. Thankfully, at that moment, the owner of the restaurant took to the floor.

"Ladies and Gentleman. On behalf of Acquerello, it is my great pleasure to introduce the one and the only, Tony Bennett." There was a thunder of applause from the audience as the aging entertainer took to the terrace and stood in front of the microphone. Gunny rolled his eyes, the President was still testing him after three years. The band cued up behind him and the aged entertainer took to the microphone.

_The very thought of you_

_And I forget to do_

_The little ordinary things_

_That everyone ought to do_

_I'm living in a kind of daydream_

_I'm happy as a King_

_And foolish though it may seem_

_To me, that's everything_

Subconsciously, almost anyway, she began to run her hands softly over his knuckles. He let out the slightest of moans from a shallow place in his throat. He wanted to retract it, hoping that she didn't notice. But she seemed every bit entranced by the moment as she was.

_The mere idea of you_

_The longing here for you_

_You'll never know how slow the moments go_

_Until I'm near to you_

_I see your face in every flower_

_Your eyes in stars above_

_It's just the thought of you_

_The very thought of you_

_My love_

Her heart was beating at a rate and a volume that had to be superhuman. God, why now? Why here? It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not now. After the election and the campaign and the microscopic scrutiny, maybe then. Oh, who was she kidding, moments like this were a transport truck coming down a dark highway on a rainy night with its high-beams on. They'd been just that inevitable since London three years ago. Putting it off wouldn't make it better but they needed to.

_You'll never know how slow the moments go_

_Until I'm near to you_

_I see your face in every flower_

_Your eyes in stars above_

_It's just the thought of you_

_The very thought of you_

_My love_

…Later that Night…

The two of them got on to the train. They could have gone to the Hotel where the rest of the campaign was but they were more comfortable in this atmosphere. Gunny walked her to her railcar. "I guess this is where we part." He mused light-heartedly.

"Ah, but it's such sweet sorrow." She looked up into his eyes. "Tonight was…"

"Yeah…" Gunny nodded. _Can she want me to? Does she expect me to?_

"Yeah." Stacy blinked. _God, I want him to, please just let him_. He leaned in and pulled her into a hug much to her surprise. She was slightly disappointed, but maybe just maybe he was trying to say something without saying it. Trying to put of the inevitable until December anyway.

"Goodnight." He whispered, his breath running down the back of her neck.

"Goodnight." She responded as they broke apart and each headed for their separate beds.

1848 ZULU

HP PAVILION

SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA

It was a hard fought loss for the team from Maryland. The Colorado team was just better then they were and there was no shame in losing to someone who was just better then you were at something. The two teams shook hands at the end of the game. Brad had managed to net a goal and Tim had put one in as well but that didn't make the 4-2 loss feel any better. As expected, Brad got a trophy for being the tournament leading scorer and Tim got one for being the player of the game for Maryland in the championship but that was it. The Maryland team applauded Colorado for having put in a solid effort. The boys peeled off their helmets as they skated for the doors off the ice.

In the hallway to the dressing room, Sasha was waiting for Tim. She had to go with her mom soon. Mac was standing in the hallway this time with her daughter. Tim was just about to walk passed her when Sasha shouted after him to get his attention. Tim walked back over. He looked older after a game, she never knew why, he just did. She put her hands on either side of his head and got on to her tiptoes, she lightly kissed his forehead. "You did good." She told him.

That damn grin made an appearance again. "Thanks." He replied. "See you back home?"

"You bet." She smiled at him. Tim turned back toward the team and Sasha walked out with her mother.

"Honey, let's not tell your father about that." Mac advised her daughter.

"Okay." Sasha replied. "Mom, what does it mean when your knees feel weak?"


	45. Deep in the Heart of Texas

Gunny was a rock star. Well, not really, but it felt that way when they did their swing through the southwest on the campaign tour. He almost signed as many autographs as the President did. They did one outdoor town hall meeting on a stage in Flagstaff, Arizona; the Mayor told them that it was as if the population of the town doubled over night. It was just Gunny and the President on the stage, sitting on a couple of stools, fielding questions from the audience. Stacy had to admit, from a PR standpoint, she wished that those two would have done that throughout the campaign thus far, they just played off each other so naturally. Victor even looked Vice Presidential.

Victor? Where the hell did that come from? He was Gunny. Hell, it had only really been a year since she stopped calling him 'boss'. It had only been about two weeks since San Francisco, maybe that was the problem. She still had a bit of an airy hangover from that one night. Yeah, that had to be it. Three years without a date and then in one night she gets Italian food, San Francisco, lights and a live performance from Tony Bennett; it was just a bit romantic overload.

When they were wrapping up the event in Flagstaff, the music was blaring and Gunny and the President were signing autographs and shaking hands, a pair of panties flew out of the crowd and hit Gunny in the shoulder. The President chuckled as the Secret Service peeled the pink lace from Gunny's shoulder. The two men made their way through the crowd and back to the train. They would wave from the back platform of the caboose as the train headed for the next stop.

She didn't know why she was thinking of it, that was almost a week ago. The train sped along the tracks from San Antonio to Austin. She tapped on the door to his railcar. "Come in!" He bellowed and she slid the door to one side. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Needed coffee." She grinned as she moved over to the brewer. "I was thinking about Flagstaff."

"I swear, I didn't plan for those panties to fly out of the crowd, it just kind of happened." He chuckled, setting the book he was reading to one side. "What's up?"

"No, I was just thinking. I know I didn't say anything at the time, but you were good in Flagstaff." She poured herself a cup. "Almost like three and a half years as White House Chief of Staff has made you a natural."

"Hey, I can fake it with the best of them." Gunny played it off with a smile.

"That wasn't faking it, you were having fun. You belonged up there." She sat down on the edge of his bed. "Damn it, you should be the Vice President!"

"No." Gunny shook his head quickly.

"If you talked to him, you know he'd do everything in his power to make sure that the convention nominated you, you know it!" She protested. "You'd have Charlie, Morley, Kat, me and half of the Democrats in the House and Senate ready to back you. You were too good to let it go to waste."

"No." He replied simply. There was a stark firmness in his visage. She shook her head.

"Why not?" She challenged. She thought back to all the times that the President had ushered the rest of the staff out of the room to talk to Gunny in the last few months. "He already asked you."

"Yeah." Gunny nodded.

"Why the hell did you turn him down?" Her ire was rising.

"I like the job I have now." Gunny answered. "Besides, I'm not a politician; I a Marine and a former New Mexico cop. I couldn't handle the ceremonial hand-holding that the Vice President does; I'd go out of my mind. Besides, I'm not the guy, I'm guy that the guy depends on and I like it that way."

"You're a good man; I don't care if you're not a politician. And I'm pretty sure that the American people would rather have one good man as Vice President then a million politicians." She went back to sitting at the foot of his bed, resting a hand on his knee.

"Yeah, but there's also the media attention, I couldn't handle that. It's a lot easier to be in the wings. When you're in someone's shadow, the lights from the cameras aren't so bright." He picked up the book, determined to stick his nose back in it and ignore what was happening.

0100 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm was as white as a ghost as he walked into the house. His expression was blank, a combination of shock and horror. Mac poked her head out from the kitchen and saw his pale expression. "Harm, are you okay? Did something happen?"

"Had Nationals tickets…" Harm started, unable to complete a sentence. "Went to Sergei's…Heard loud crash inside…"

"Uh-oh." Mac took his cover from him and tossed it on the hat rack.

"Went to see what happened…walked in on Sergei and Anna…broken table…" At this point, Harm's horror had shaken off a bit and Mac was trying hard to restrain a chuckle. "Ran screaming…"

"You screamed?" Mac was about ready to burst.

"It was a manly wail." Harm corrected.

"Yeah, okay." Mac was laughing openly now. "So after you let out this manly wail, you came straight home?"

"Yes." Harm nodded. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go remove my eyes with an ice cream scoop."

"I don't know, Harm, Anna's certainly attractive." Mac teased as she followed him into the kitchen.

"What's your point?" Harm drank a glass of water.

"Well, I'm just saying that you don't have to protest so much." Mac tried to conceal her coy grin.

"Mac, I haven't looked at another woman since we got married." Harm answered.

"Okay, that's great. But most people wouldn't look so completely horrified." Mac chuckled. "You could just shrug it off."

"What is it with members of this family and members of that family?" Harm leaned back against. "I don't mean it like that; there just seems to be something that members of this family keep having some connection with members of that family."

"Oh, I see, this is about Sasha and Timothy." Mac walked over to her husband.

"She's nine." Mac started.

"He's ten." Harm countered. "He's a smart kid and he's a good athlete and he's respectful and…"

"And what, Harm?" Mac set her fingertips in the middle of her chest.

"And, I just kind of think things are moving a little fast, you know. I figured that the first boy that Sasha brought by the house would be someone that I couldn't like. Instead, she brought someone by who's intelligent and athletic and has a Princeton pedigree stamped on his forehead." Harm smirked.

"Yeah, well her taste in men is certainly an improvement on the men that I dated before I met you. Granted, Tim is still young yet, things could change." Mac hugged her husband.

"In that family? I think his future is either in the diplomatic corps, the Marine Corps or politics." Harm grinned. "I don't know, I'm jumping the gun but it just seems like one day they're in the crib and the next day they think boys are cute."

"She never said he was cute, she's just finally accepting that boys are human." Mac chuckled. "Which reminds me, her friends are having their sleepover upstairs tonight, so, we should be quiet and let them have their fun."

Upstairs, Sasha had a few of her girlfriends over. They talked and watched a few movies. Her friends were well intentioned though a few of them had entered their boy crazy phase just a little early. As the credits rolled on their latest movie, Sasha turned the DVD player off. "What do you guys want to do now?" Sasha asked.

"We could make s'mores." Her friend Lana suggested.

"We don't have a fireplace." Sasha reminded her friend.

"You can make them over a fireplace." Lana informed the group.

"We'd burn the house down." Rachel interrupted. "Let's just watch another movie or some TV or something."

"We could talk about he guys in our class." Janie suggested. "Come on, it's not like we have anything else to do."

"Why would we talk about the boys in our class?" Sasha was somewhat confused.

"Because some of them are pretty cute." Rachel joked.

"They are not!" Sasha protested.

"Sure they are." This time Lana joined in and Sasha felt like she was surrounded.

"Like who?" She maintained her serious expression.

"Brad." Janie started. "Come on, coolest boy in school. Tall, shaggy hair, national superstar."

"Bradley Ross is like my brother, Janie, he's not cute." Sasha answered. "I've known him since he was…well, I don't really how long but it's been a long time."

"So, what about Jack. He's taller, a nice guy, he kind of reminds me of one of those big lovable dogs." It was Rachel's turn to make Sasha squirm this time.

"Jack's a pain in the butt." She got up off the floor.

"Hey, wait girls; I think I know our dear Sasha's soft spot." Lana jumped up off the floor. "Who's the one person she spends most of her time with at school? The one person who she is rarely ever seen without?"

"Tim!" Rachel and Janie answered. "So, Sasha's got a weakness for the dark and mysterious one. The brainy types."

"I do not!" A heavy shade of pink infused the cheeks of the young Rabb.

"Yes you do!" Lana pointed out. "You're blushing."

"It's warm in here." Sasha pointed out. "I should open a window."

1113 ZULU

FERDINAND MAGELLAN

OUTSIDE OF AUSTIN, TEXAS

"Sir, it's time to wake up." Gunny put in the call.

"Gunny, I'm going to have the surgeon general attach a snooze button to your brain, it won't hurt much." The President grumbled as he slid out of bed. "To Kat and Morley have the speech ready?"

"Yes, sir." Gunny affirmed. The other end of the line went dead. The President walked into Gunny's railcar in his dark blue Presidential bathrobe. "Good morning, sir. Coffee's ready and we've got a copy of the Washington Post."

"Good, now I won't have to have the Secret Service kill you." The President commented as he took the coffee mug. "What's the latest on the race for Vice President?"

"Only a few undecided states left. Turner's proved he can play in the same league as Wallace and Proper." Gunny answered. "New Mexico, Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas, Tennessee, Maryland, West Virginia and New York are still undecided."

"What happened to Illinois, California and Pennsylvania?" The President was suddenly interested.

"All have Turner polling over 50 percent. He's got them in his column." Gunny answered. "He could win on the first ballot but he'd need New York and Texas."

"He's not going to get Texas, Danny Proper is big here. Not sure I know why, but he is. His only hope of getting the nomination on the first two ballots is that he's so far out in front after the first ballot that the delegates have no choice but to pick him on the second ballot." The President lowered his coffee mug. The two men made their way to the dining car. They took a seat with the rest of senior staff. "Helene is going to the prom with her new boyfriend next week." There was an almost deafening silence at that remark.

"Well, sir, she is seventee…" Morley and Stacy both covered Kat's mouth to keep her from finishing that sentence. The President's niece was not a good topic of conversation for the senior staff to get entangled with.

"Is she going one the college tour with us in July, sir?" Charlie shifted the discussion.

"She is." The President ruffled his paper.

"How did the speechwriting go, you two?" He looked over at Kat and Morley who looked like death warmed over.

"I almost killed Morley with a butter knife, sir." Kat answered.

"Ah well, better luck next time." The President chuckled. "Are you ready to have me look the speech over?" Morley nodded drowsily and handed the President seven sheets of loosely strung together yellow legal paper. The President set the paper down on the table and looked over the speech. "We're quoting a lot of authors."

"The first part of the speech is about creativity, sir." Morley replied, ready to pass out on the table.

"I gathered that." The President read through the speech rather quickly. It was the standard kind of inspirational rhetoric. You were talking to university kids, which meant that you talked about creativity, opportunity, free expression and leadership, then waited for the applause. "I'm receiving some sort of honorary doctorate, right?"

"Yes, sir; in political science." Charlie answered. "We have to get going, I think they're expecting us at the ceremony around 10am or so. I'm not sure that they're going to be particularly strict with the President of the United States."

"Well, let's hope not." The President got up from the table and padded down the aisle of the railcars back to his suite to get ready for his commencement address to the graduating class of the University of Texas.

"He's really not a morning person." Stacy mused.

"Let's just try to keep him from growling at anyone today." Gunny joked.

"I heard that!" The President shouted and the staff went silent.

1344 ZULU

ST. GREGORY'S

WASHINGTON, DC

"Hey Brad! Hey Brad!" Jimmy Roberts came running up to the boys waving a magazine in the air. He was sort of a blonde version of his dad, kind of short and on the huskier side but a nice guy and a close friend of the Ross boys. "Did you see the latest issue of Sports Illustrated?"

"No, I haven't been to the library yet." Brad answered. Jimmy handed him the magazine and a wide grin grew on Brad's face. He was on the cover. It was a great picture too, one of him scoring the game winning goal against Michigan in the Eastern Final. In the blank space next to Brad's head the caption read 'The Next Gretzky?' "They just gave me the headline because I'm dad's kid." Brad tried to shake it off.

"I gotta disagree with you, buddy. If you sucked or were just average, they wouldn't have done anything at all." Tim stated. "You earned this." He gave his brother a pat on the back.

"You know, Tim, you need to stop spending so much time with mom. You're turning into a real sissy, dude." Jack punched his brother in the shoulder.

"Coach ordered like six hundred of those, he's handing them out inside the school." Jimmy told the boys.

"Really?" Brad looked up from the magazine in his hands. The boys headed down the hallway, Secret Service keeping a wider perimeter in the narrow hallways. The boys walked into homeroom where Sasha was sitting on he desk at the front reading out of the magazine to the rest of the class.

"Hail the conquering hero!" She called out as the boys entered. She leapt of the desk. "Are we supposed to kiss his ring or something?" She remarked caustically, looking at Tim.

"I don't know, His Majesty hasn't told us proper protocol yet." Tim turned to his brother. "What is thy command, sire?"

"My command is that you two knock it off." Brad looked slightly annoyed. "Seriously, if I don't finish this year with a 'B' average Mom is going to tear a whole new strip off of me. That's not something that I particularly want to go through."

"Besides, now that he's a cover mode for Sports Illustrated, all the girls are going to be swooning over him on the campaign trail this summer." Jack commented as he took a seat behind his desk.

"Jack." Tim tossed his brother a look.

"Shut up?" Jack chanced. Tim nodded and Jack buttoned his lip. Each of the boys embodied a small part of their father. Brad was burdened, or at least he felt that way, with a natural charisma and an ability to make a good impression on just about anyone. Jack was blessed with an endless sense of humour and a strong sense of loyalty. Tim seemed to have gotten the lion's share of both his mother's intellect and his father's, he was more of an introvert though, completely willing to let Brad indulge himself in the glories of popularity and be his second in command.

They were a sort of clique at school. Well, Brad liked to think of the whole school as his clique but he had a core group of friends. There were his brothers, of course. Tim and Jack were the best friends a guy could have, even though they faced ceaseless questions about whether, as triplets, they could read each other's minds. Jimmy Roberts was like their sidekick; Robin to their collective Batman; Ringo to their John, Paul and George. There was their cousin Arleigh, he didn't go to school with them, but he visited often enough. Finally there was Sasha Rabb, she was his brother's girl, thought neither of them knew it yet and likely wouldn't for a long time.

Sasha and his brother were inseparable most hours of the day. Their grades were almost interchangeable and they frequently competed for the top marks in the class on tests and projects. He'd admit that she was cute, well, most girls at this school looked good in the uniforms. Sasha was shorter then Tim was, but not by much. In ways, she looked a lot like her mom must have when she was younger. His Dad always told him that these were the best years, like Glory Days or something.

Yeah, he knew that he wasn't the smartest kid, the was Tim. Or the nicest, that was Jack but he like to think that the time that he spent with his father made him the wisest of the three. It wasn't about asking dad the question, Tim and Jack both did that, it was about hanging around to get the answer and actually listening to it. The teacher walked into the room and saw a copy of the Sports Illustrated placed squarely on his desk. "Mr. Ross was this your doing?" The teacher held up the magazine.

"No, but I hear there's a really good article in that issue." Brad joked with a broad smile. His smile was different from Tim's, Brad could actually run at a thousand watts, teeth and all. You could practically hear the doting, dreaming girls in the room sigh.

"I warn you, Mr. Ross; your sense of humour will not win you any points, either will your new celebrity status." Their teacher certainly seemed to have a surly demeanour this morning.

"Hey, I'm just here to learn some history, teach." Brad chuckled. "We were up to Roosevelt from last time, right?"

"Yes, well…" The teacher opened his briefcase just in time for the national anthem, the pledge and the morning announcements.

1729 ZULU

WASHINGTON NAVY YARD

WASHINGTON, DC

Harm walked into Bax's office at just after noon. "The Chuckie V is up for retrofitting this year and I think we have to put JFK out of service early, she's giving the crew some trouble." Bax leaned back in his chair and quickly reviewed the report.

"You're right, I'll send this up to Tom Boone within the next hour." Bax set the filed aside on his desk. "How's the new F-24 project coming along at North Island, you were out there a couple of weeks ago."

"The Panther's got a few problems but they're still working the kinks out. She's faster then a greasy naked guy sliding on ice though." Harm mused as he leaned up against the door to Bax's office. "Anything else, sir."

Bax let out a heavy sigh. "Harm, I'm absolutely scared to death."

"Oh this ought to be good." Harm grinned from ear to ear. "The last time you were scared to death it was because Chaplain Simons caught you trying to serenade his daughter in the nude."

"As I recall, I had a very pleasant singing voice." Bax retorted.

"As I recall, but I'll call Keeter to make sure, you were off key and I don't think it was your pitch that the good Chaplain was objecting to." Harm laughed. "What has you scared to death for the second time in thirty years."

"Jen's pregnant." Bax blurted out.

"That would do it." Harm replied quickly. "Congratulations, by the way."

"Do you have any advice to make me less…less…I don't know, less freaked out?" To say Bax was panicked was to underestimate just how neurotic he'd become.

"Yes, three things. First, there is nothing more beautiful then seeing your wife pregnant. Second, your wife will never be so prone to violent outbursts of rage then when she's pregnant. Keep firearms and sharp objects out of her reach being as you're likely to be the target of her rage. Which in her mind is justified, since it's your fault she's pregnant." Harm paused for a second.

"How do you…" Bax went to ask, Harm thought it wise to interrupt him.

"Don't try to make sense out of it, you'll only give yourself a headache." Harm advised. "Third, and this is unique to your case, pray for a boy."

"Why?" Bax was genuinely flummoxed now.

"Bax, let me paint a quick picture for you. Your daughter is seventeen. Because she's a mixture of you and Jen, she's going to have traits from both of you. Let's say that she looks just like Jen did at that age. Now, as a father, you'd already be worried right?" Harm inquired.

"Yeah." Bax could swear he felt five new grey hairs spring out of his head just thinking about it.

"Alright, now combine that with the fact that every story about you when you were around that age involves you taking your clothes off for some purpose or another, but most of those stories involve you lusting after some member of the opposite sex." Harm didn't need to complete the thought. The mere fact that Bax appeared to age five years in five seconds was proof enough that he got it.

"So you're saying I should…" Bax just start nodding slowly.

"Hope for a son, absolutely." Harm chuckled. "Seriously, just calm down and remember one thing. Our folks were scared too, and their folks were scared and their folks were scared. In the end, it all comes down to making an honest to God effort and doing the best you can. Once you've done that, you've given your kids all you can and you just hopes that you've given them the tools to know right from wrong and follow their dreams."

"You sound like the dust jacket on a freakin' Disney movie, Harm." Bax joked. "Thanks, Buddy."

"No problem. I'm not the one who's teaching you how to change diapers though. Talk to your wife about that one." Harm headed for the door. "I'll get back to you on the submarines by 1600 okay?"

"Yeah." Bax nodded as Harm walked through the door.

0122 ZULU

UNIVERSITY OF TEXAS

AUSTIN, TEXAS

The President's commencement address was interrupted for applause twenty-three times. Not bad for a fifteen minute speech. Now, he was at a campus bar with a few members of the graduating class and they were doing the 'Rock the Vote' session of the night. Once again, it was him and Gunny sitting on their stools, their suit jackets removed and their ties loosened, taking questions from an attentive audience. By this point they were about five minutes in.

"My question is for Mr. Galindez." A young Latina stood up in the middle of the crowd. The roving microphone worked its way over to her. "What's it like to be the First Hispanic Chief of Staff?"

"I don't think of myself as the first Hispanic to hold my job and I've found that most of the politicians that I deal with on Capitol Hill don't see me that way either. I think it's really the media that paints that picture because it seems new and shocking to them and I know that my visibility in this administration allows me to be a campaign asset which is good because I can help represent the views of the Hispanic community in close proximity to the Oval Office. I just don't think being Hispanic makes my abilities in my job any different then it would if I were white or black or a woman." Gunny answered.

"My question is for the President." A tall young man stood up near the front. The microphone moved over to him. "Mr. President, you've been criticized harshly on talk radio and on other such conservative media outlets for carrying views which run contrary to your faith as a Catholic, what do you have to say about that?"

"In 1960, the fears about electing Catholic John F. Kennedy were that he would be too beholden to the Vatican on issues. I don't think anyone can accuse me of that." The President chuckled, as did the students in the room. "The Catholic Church and I have some differences on certain issues but we hold strong to the common facets of our faith. We both believe in Jesus Christ. We both believe that, being as no human is perfect, we'll sin from time to time but we also believe in forgiveness and absolution for those sins. We believe in helping the disenfranchised and both of us take very strong opposition to the Death Penalty. Few Catholics agree with the Church on everything, there are some in the clergy who don't even do that and I would submit that anyone attacking me for my faith is really just insecure in their own." The President saw nods of approval among the students in the crowd.

"My question is for Mr. Galindez." A young black man stood up at the back and waited for the microphone to make its way to him. "Your tenure of four years in your job bests your predecessors by a year and a half and many commentators put your power somewhere between that of Leon Panetta and James Baker when compared to previous Chiefs of Staff. How do you see your job?"

The President chuckled. "You're certainly popular tonight."

"Yeah, who knew?" Gunny replied with a smirk. "I don't know, I mean, I serve at the pleasure of the President, so I really only have as much or as little power as he gives me. Being friends with the boss gives me influence on the Hill with legislators but it's not like I run the show out of my office, I just make sure that no one sets the White House on fire. He's the guy who directs the show."

"My question is for both of you." A young blonde co-ed stood up across the room. "Who are your favourite musical artists?"

"Oh, I don't know if you guys will like that, we're a couple of old guys." Gunny answered into the microphone. "I don't know, I like Bob Dylan, The Who and Lynard Skynard."

"Sometimes I think I might have a soul twenty years older then I actually am." The Preside joked. "Nah, I'm a fan of Bruce Springsteen, the Eagles and John Mellencamp but the First Lady's tastes have been rubbing off on me lately so, I've been listening to some Tony Bennett and Frank Sinatra."The President was smiling subtly.

"Man, you guys are old!" One of the students commented.

"See, he gets it!" Gunny added.

"Do you guys ever listen to music at work?" One student asked.

"Well, I don't think that the President or I are ever able to actually get that kind of time while at work." Gunny chuckled. "I did walk in on the speechwriting staff listening to Counting Crows once, though."

"What's the hardest part of your jobs?" One girl at the front asked.

"The hardest part of our jobs?" The President repeated. "That's a tough one. I guess it would be how little time I get to spend with my kids. It was such a joy for me to finally be able to sit down and watch my kids play hockey last month, you have no idea. That's part of the reason I like campaigning during the summer is that the kids come on the bus and I get to spend some time with them."

"Well, for me I think the hardest part of the job is the fact that fourteen hour days leave almost no time for a personal life." Gunny chuckled. "In three and a half years I've only had three dates, Hand to God." He raised his right hand. "That personal time is so precious because you can use it to clear you head and I think it helps me become better at my job."

"I'll remember to order you to take a vacation if we win this thing." The President looked over at Gunny.

"Well, we'll be on a permanent vacation if we lose." Gunny replied. In the wings, Stacy was grinning from ear to ear. These two were just too good at what they did, they had the kids in the audience eating out of the palm of their hands, these kids were in awe but they were identifying, it was the weirdest juxtaposition she had ever seen.

"Now, enough with the questions. Who wants to shoot a game of pool?" The President asked and all the kids clamoured out of their seats toward the pool table.

0304 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"The kids are lucky that they can have the friends that they have now for a long time." Harm was resting against the headboard. "I mean with modern communications it's easy to keep in touch with people even if they're a world away."

"Sometimes I think your mind is a world away." Mac chuckled as she climbed into the bed. "What's got you all philosophical today?"

"Jen's pregnant." Harm stated.

"I know, she has our phone number, remember?" Mac elbowed him playfully in the ribs. "That can't be all that's bothering you."

"No, I'm serious. I was just thinking, could you imagine growing up with a group of people? Having the same friends at forty that you had at five? I think that's the one good thing modern technology has done for kids." Harm looked at his wife. "Can you imagine if we knew our current group of friends in High School?"

"No." Mac shook her head.

"Why not?" Harm put a hand on her back.

"Well, first, because Bax and Keeter act like they're still in High School. Second, if you and Nate went to the same school, the two of you would drive everyone insane!" Mac protested.

"Why?" Harm seemed slightly taken aback.

"Because you two would compete over _everything_." Mac turned to face her husband. "I can see it now. Take everyone we hang out with now and make them seventeen. We all hang out but you and Nate compete to be the Alpha Male in the group. You're the Captain of the Football Team, he's the Class President. God help any woman that the two of you set your gaze on at the same time. No, Harm, if you and Nate went to the same High School with the rest of us, you both would be bludgeoned to death by Christmas."

"Kill-joy." Harm sounded moderately hurt. He was faking and he thought she knew that.

"Oh, c'mere you big baby." She grabbed him by the collar and kissed him. "Now, go to sleep!"


	46. Back at the Convention Hall

_A/N: We don't own the MSNBC anchors mentioned in this chapter, we just wanted to make the convention experience as authentic as possible. Oh, and we don't own Neil Young either, just seemed worth mentioning._

It was July, early July. Without a Vice President, the Democratic National Committee at the urging of the President, had scheduled their National Convention in San Antonio, Texas. The convention was a month earlier then it was usually scheduled but the location of San Antonio held a special significance to the delegates as it had once been the hometown of now slain Vice President Wesley Grier. The convention was going to be an event to remember, they had booked Bruce Springsteen, Bon Jovi, John Fogerty, Kanye West and Barenaked Ladies to play. On the first night, there was the first ballot for the Vice Presidential nomination, followed by former President Clinton's address; the whole night would be wrapped up by a performance by Kanye West. The next night was the keynote address that was going to be delivered by the most unsuspecting of candidates.

When Mac had tore into Senator Lynch of Kansas back in March, leftist groups had targeted him for defeat and the NRA saw a particularly unpopular incumbent supporting massively unpopular spending cuts in law enforcement and distanced themselves from Lynch. This perfect storm of events wouldn't be complete without just the right Democratic candidate and Senator Hennessy the chairman of the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee found one; Chris Sullivan a former Kansas City Chiefs Quarterback. Sullivan had grown up in Wichita, his dad worked on the line at Boeing and when Boeing had started cutting back, his dad had been laid off. The whole thing was an inspiring story from Middle Americana and it was going to be broadcast live on network TV after the results of the second ballot on the second night.

Everyone in the convention anticipated a second ballot, most of them a third and the candidates themselves were worried about the end of the second ballot more then anyone else in the building. It was a widely known secret, the only kind that exists in federal politics, that after the second ballot the President was going to release his five closest advisors to endorse their favourite candidates. The only anticipated move out of that political tidal wave was that Morley would back the most liberal of the candidates still in the field. If Governor McKinnon were still in the race, Morley would back him; if it was Secretary Wallace then she would get his support.

The other four were mysteries. Anyway, after the keynote address, the third ballot was done and if no one was victorious after that ballot, the fourth would be conducted right away in anticipation of the address by the Vice Presidential nominee on Wednesday night. One thing was for sure, the fact that the delegates were going to choose the Vice Presidential nominee at the convention was going to be a ratings boom for the Democratic Convention. After all, Democrats in a knock down, drag out fight for their political futures was a media blood-sport second only to Jerry Springer.

The media was another story. The media made a habit out of taking sides, it didn't matter if it was Democrat or Republican. The Washington Post had given its support to Danny Proper, so had the Wall Street Journal; the New York Times threw its support behind Andrea Wallace and the LA Times was the only major print media backing Turner. It was widely assumed the McKinnon would drop out after one of the first two ballots upon realizing that he had no chance of being nominated.

The Chairman of the DNC was sitting with Stacy whose job it was to co-ordinate the press for this event. The networks were chomping at the bit to get guest commentators for their press booths. They wanted primo camera positions and MSNBC was still trying to get the President to do a sit down with Chris Matthews and Keith Olbermann on the second night after the keynote address. A request that she was still denying, largely because she knew that if she took it to the President, he would absolutely want to do it and that just wouldn't help his quest for political neutrality that he had strived for while the delegates were still trying to resolve themselves as to who the next Vice President would be. She had to work out floor position for the delegation from each state and speaking time for each of the candidates before prime time on Monday.

The DNC chairman left the conference room at the same instance as Gunny came back into the conference room. "How are things going? Are we going to have a convention tomorrow or what?" He took a seat next to her.

"Yeah, well if MSNBC had their way the President would be co-hosting their coverage with Chris Matthews and Keith Olbermann for the first three nights." Stacy shook her head. She shouldn't have told Gunny that, he _would_ tell the President.

"Why not let him sit with MSNBC on the first night, let him sit with CNN on the second night and then after that, we just let Ross bet Ross." Gunny grinned as he leaned forward in his chair.

"The two of you are in mind-meld right now, aren't you?" She joked, her white teeth sparkling in spite of the later hour and the endless gallons of coffee.

"It happens once in awhile, you can't control it." He loved seeing her smile. He even loved watching her work, it was a symbol of that fierce independence that she cherished and seemed to kindle the fires of her spirit. "Listen, I think we need to talk?"

"It's never good when a man says that." She smirked nervously. "Am I being fired?"

"No." He answered quickly.

"Well then, go ahead." She was finishing up a memo for the news services.

"We haven't really been…I don't know, friendly…lately, I guess." Gunny started.

"You want to define 'lately'?" She was sarcastic.

"San Francisco." Gunny knew that those two words were like hurling a keg of dynamite into a forest fire and then standing around for the results.

"Yeah, that night was a lot of fun." She awkwardly tried to side step what that night really was; Emotional foreplay of the highest calibre.

"We haven't talked a lot since then and the times that we have, it turned into a shouting match. I don't like fighting with you, I mean I can take locking horns with Charlie or Morley or Kat but you and I are too close for me to want to fight with you." He reached across the table for her hands but she retracted them as though they'd been caught by a bitter wind.

"I just haven't been in the greatest mood lately." She tried to cover. "There's just been a lot of tension…" she realized how that sounded, "…with the campaign and all."

"Yeah, I suppose." Gunny acknowledged the scapegoat. "Neither of us were a part of the last campaign. I suppose this is all new to us."

"Yeah." She finished the memo. "Listen, I'm not angry with you."

"It doesn't seem that way." He replied.

"I'm not!" She protested. "I just…" she took a deep breath, "…a lot of things have been happening lately and I need to sort them out on my own, that's it. Not to mention the fact that I have to co-ordinate the media coverage of over thirty news services for this convention and review the speeches of each of the VP candidates to keep them on message."

"Yeah, okay." Gunny let out a breath. "See you back at the hotel?"

"Yeah." She nodded quickly. He got up from the table and walked out of the room. She shuffled herself around in the chair. She had fallen for him, hard. She'd been falling for him for a long time, like a slow walk toward the precipice that you suddenly decided to jump off of, unsure that there was water at the bottom. She wasn't sure how to deal with it. He'd said it himself in Austin, he was the most visible Chief of Staff in a long time. He was on TV almost as much as her or the President. They couldn't date, the old saying in Washington was that if two people knew it, it wasn't a secret and a hell of a lot more then two people would kill for gossip like the Press Secretary dating the Chief of Staff.

1728 ZULU

US SUPREME COURT

WASHINGTON, DC

Mac was sitting in her office reviewing court decisions from the session that had ended with the month of March. The more she read the opinions from the last session, the more she thanked the good lord above for Justice Adam Finnerty, who had become something of a mentor to her in the last few months. You had to have something of an ego to get by on the court. After all, the rulings that you handed down would have an effect on business practices, police work or even social policy.

During weekdays, groups of Justices typically went to lunch together. Normally, if you sat on the steps, you would see Justices Meyer, Sutton and Hearn leave together around noon and go eat lunch in the congressional cafeteria down the street. Fifteen minutes later, Justices Lazio and Thompson would come out and head to a steakhouse. A few minutes later, Justice DiLorenti and the Chief Justice would come down the steps. Usually, Mac and Justice Finnerty were the last out of the building and they ate lunch at the cafeteria of the Justice Department because they made the best Roast Beef sandwiches in Washington.

She looked up at the clock; 12:08. She'd be seeing Justice Finnerty any moment. Adam really was a good mentor, he'd helped her thoroughly debate each issue from the previous session and examine the hard facts of the case as well as the constitutional arguments. It was like having a sparring partner. She finished up her notes on _Tomlinson v. Omaha District School Board_ before setting her legal pad aside and going back to Media Player and put on at little bit of Joan Jett. As the pulsing intro chords to _I Love Rock'n Roll _pulsed through the office Mac began lightly singing along with the song.

"Not bad, but I don't think you'll make the American Idol Top Ten." A voice mused from her door. Justice Stefan DiLorenti was a tall round faced man with a goofy smile but he was generally well meaning.

"Can I help you, Justice DiLorenti?" Mac was slightly embarrassed at having been caught singing along with the music.

"Yes, I was wondering if, since I haven't gotten the chance to speak with you since you arrived, that I might be able to take you to lunch today. I realize that you normally go with Adam, but if I'm not intruding I should like to get to know you a little better." He smiled slightly. Members of the conservative wing of the court were going to start showing up on her doorstep now, were they? Well, it made more sense for them to send DiLorenti rather then Thompson or Lazio. DiLorenti at least voted with the Liberal wing of the court 5 times out of 100 which was about the same amount of times that the Chief Justice did. Lazio and Thompson never did.

"Yeah, sure, just let me turn off the music." Mac smiled quickly. She walked over to the door. She closed it behind them and the two of them walked through the hallway toward the stairs.

"I was impressed with the way you handled your confirmation hearing, I think the rest of us were about ready to melt into the chair when our time came." DiLorenti chuckled nervously.

"When you prosecute Navy SEALs and Force Recon Marines and even high ranking Generals and Admirals, there isn't much room for nervousness. The members of the Senate who didn't vote for me knew that they weren't going to before I sat down in the hearing room. In my mind, I had free license to go uncensored. So, I did." The two of them shared a laugh.

"I never quite thought of it that way." Justice DiLorenti grinned as the two of them stepped outside on to the court steps. "The White House throw a hairy canary after your hearing?"

"No, actually I was surprised, I expected the President to be pissed right off. Turns out that he had a good laugh about it, not sure that Senators Lynch and Hayes did though." Mac grinned weakly. "So, is this when the conservative wing of the court tries to hint that they would appreciate my vote?"

"Am I a conservative?" DiLorenti joked.

"According to the Washington Post." Mac answered.

"Hillary Clinton is a conservative according to the Washington Post." DiLorenti countered.

"According to some members of her own party, too." Mac pointed out as the two of them walked into the Capital Grille. The waiter took the two of them over to a table near the bar and handed them menus. "What's good for lunch here?"

"They do a good pan fried calamari and most of their soups are pretty good." DiLorenti answered. "I wanted to talk with you about your _Roe_ opinion."

"I've found most people do." Mac replied without looking up from the menu. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I don't know, I was hoping I could actually discuss the entire issue with you. It does tend to be the big issue on the court." Stefan DiLorenti wasn't one for dancing around the main point. The waiter came over to their table.

"Lobster bisque." Mac handed him the menu

"Smoked Salmon." Stefan also handed his menu over. "You chose to evade the question of life in your confirmation hearing, why?"

"It wasn't that I evaded it, it was that it wasn't relevant. A culture of death is already prevalent in American law. We only recently stopped executing minors and the mentally handicapped, but we still execute people; we believe that it's better to die slow and cruel on life support then quickly without it; we don't fund pre-existing gun control laws and guns are responsible for 30,000 Americans every year. There's already a culture of death in our law, whether or not it's a life isn't an issue in this case because it obviously isn't an issue in other cases like the ones I've just listed." Mac argued.

"In the case of people who are on death row, they've committed a crime for which they anticipated the punishment. A punishment which society then has a duty to enforce then, does it not?" Justice DiLorenti argued.

"But you argued earlier about the right of a government to sanction the taking of a life. A person on death row is unquestionably alive and thus can receive the rights accorded them in the Bill of Rights. The mere question of whether a pregnancy exists, in the first trimester, as a life must force the court to air on the side of caution that it is not a life and enforce the Right to Privacy as Justice Blackmun stated exists in the Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments as well as the right to terminate a pregnancy which falls under the unenumerated rights of the Ninth Amendment." Mac took a sip from the water that their waiter had set on the table.

"But what about cases where it is more apparent that a life does exist like partial birth abortion?" Justice DiLorenti questioned.

"See, now that's an interesting case because it does bring the procedure itself under speculation. The process itself, it can be demonstrated medically, creates life and then rather cruelly ends it. Because medically, life is created, the method of it's ending in this case violates Eighth Amendment protections against cruel and unusual punishment." Mac answered.

"Well, you're not as far to the left as I thought." DiLorenti mused as the waiter brought over their lunches.

"My predecessor told me to be an independent thinker." Mac answered. "I'll always try to be."

0201 ZULU

AT&T CENTER

SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS

The first ballot was well under way. Once it was done, all the professional politicians and backroom dealings would be underway. When California was called for Turner, the convention went into a panic. A lot of journalists and analysts had predicted that California was only flirting with Turner that ultimately, it would back Wallace and launch her into the lead. Turner now had the most powerful state delegation in the convention behind him but it looked like Proper was going to have the most states backing him, which ironically did not necessarily mean that he was going to have the most delegates.

The President and the White House senior staff stood up in the owner's box looking down over the convention. Silently, he was thanking God that it wasn't prime time yet, he needed to have the talk with the staff now about what happened after the second ballot and where they were going to cross the floor to. Gunny was the first to walk into the room, followed immediately by Charlie, then Morley and finally Stacy and Kat entered the room. The President turned his attention from the convention floor to the members of his staff.

"A lot of decisions are going to be made tonight about the future of this Party. A future in which you will all play a very deciding role. I'm going to ask you here and now, when the results from the Second ballot come in, whose camp you're going to be joining. Who you support will have no bearing on your place in this administration, that's secure because your beliefs are of course your own, though was share a lot of them." The President chuckled. "I realize I'm babbling in my attempt to sound articulate so, I'll just say that your jobs are safe, I just want to know what's going to happen after the second ballot. Why don't we start with the Communications office?" The President turned to face Morley.

"Sir, I think you know who I'm going to support. I've taken the temperature of the convention and I'm going to be walking into Secretary Wallace's camp after the second ballot." Morley stuffed his hands into his pockets. Kat was the next one to gather the attention of the room.

"Mr. President, I think we need to consider election strategy and who's going to sit in the office after you. America isn't ready for big broad strokes to the left, as much as you've helped move us that way over this last term. I think Danny Proper is the kind of Democrat we need and I think we can sweep through the west like a liberal cattle drive if he's on the ticket." Kat clenched her fingers around the clipboard in her hand.

"I guess that leaves you as the last member of the Communications office." Gunny turned to Stacy, taking over the President's mediation of the conversation.

"I plead the Fifth and demand counsel." Stacy joked, and the room broke into guffaws.

"Cop out." Gunny joked.

"Can we come back to me?" She asked. She didn't want to further break from Gunny on something but she wanted to stay true to her convictions on this one. Their relationship, friendship, whatever you were willing to call it at this point was strained enough. Politics was such a large part of their lives, it was what brought them together and made them friends initially, she didn't want it to be an obstacle.

"Alright, guess that leaves you two." The President turned to his two closest advisors. "What's it going to be?"

"I always intended to back Admiral Turner." Gunny jumped in. "But I serve at the pleasure of the President, so, if you think that my endorsement of a candidate could compromise your neutrality, I'll stay off the floor of the convention."

"I appreciate that, Gunny. I think it would be smarter for you to work behind closed doors rather then out in the open if you're going to endorse one candidate over another." The President nodded. "What about you Charlie?"

"I'll be joining Gunny in the Turner camp after the second ballot, Mr. President. I assume that I can actually cross the convention floor in the open?" Charlie chuckled and once again the attention was back on Stacy.

"Can I plead the Fifth again?" She protested. "I think I'm just going to stay off the floor, sir."

"That's certainly your right. After all, you're the one who has to deal with the press everyday." The President nodded. He could sense her dilemma, if Gunny had been the one to stay completely neutral, then she would have supported Andrea Wallace without thinking twice. But Gunny was backing Turner, so she decided to just let things be as they were and not make any more out of them…damn it! The President knew from being married that sometimes the best way to clear the air was to just get your issues all out in the open and deal with them. These two seemed content to just hide from the issues. What did he expect? They were Democrats.

"Sir, we've got to get you up to the MSNBC booth. They're about to announce the results of the first ballot and they're going to want your analysis of what's going on." Stacy tried to cut off the silent whispers in the room. They ushered the President out of the door of the owner's box and down the row of Press Boxes to the extravagant MSNBC in the corner behind the stage on the convention floor. Stacy tapped on the door to the set. "Hey guys, I've got a surprise for you." Stacy grinned as the President stepped passed her on to the set.

"The set looks good, guys." The President observed as he walked over to the desk. Chris Matthews and Keith Olbermann were on their feet. "Stand easy, guys."

"Good to see you, Mr. President." Chris started. "It's shaping up to be a wild four nights here in San Antonio."

"Tell me about it, I think I might have to by Tums stock before the end of the week." The President laughed and clipped his microphone to his lapel. "Where's Scarborough?"

"On the convention floor." Keith answered. "He's getting interviews with Senators and Governors trying to gauge reaction and see where the convention is headed."

"I sure don't envy him that job. This place is going to turn into absolute pandemonium once they announce the first ballot." Matthews commented. "Are you sure you want to do this, Mr. President?"

"Chris, it's time to play Hardball." The President encouraged.

"Tell me we got that on B roll!" Matthews shouted at his producer who gave him the thumbs up. "Excellent."

"And we're back in five…four…three…two…" The Producer motioned that they were back on the air.

"Welcome back to MSNBC's special coverage of the 2012 Democratic National Convention live from the AT&T Center here in San Antonio, Texas. I'm Chris Matthews and co-hosting with me tonight is Keith Olbermann. We're very pleased to be joined in the booth by the President of the United States Nathan Ross. Good evening, Mr. President."

"Good evening, Chris, Keith." The President nodded to the hosts.

"Mr. President, let's be honest, you could have just picked a Vice President back in January and run off of that. Isn't all this just a big ratings grab by the Democratic Party?" Chris hunkered down, you rarely got the chance to interview the President live.

"No, Chris. The Democratic Party is a big tent and under that tent exist a lot of different visions about the future of this party. Four of those differing views and differing directions for our country are on display tonight. Four years ago, Democrats from around America got together and picked me to be their Presidential nominee and they renewed that faith in me an hour ago. Tonight, they're getting together to forge a future for that party. This isn't about ratings, Chris, this is about involving people in a part of the political equation that's normally performed behind closed doors and we're bringing it out in the open, this was how we nominated Harry Truman for Vice President in 1944 after all." The President intertwined his fingers and leaned forward on to the desk.

"Mr. President," Keith jumped into the fray, "Governor Burke has said that your ideals, the platform of the Democratic Party present a threat to American values, do you have anything to say to that?"

"The Governor certainly has a right to his opinion. He's wrong, but he has the right to be, that's what's so great about this country is that you have the right to be wrong." The President laughed. "The fact is that the Democratic platform is a belief in the better angels of our nature as Abraham Lincoln once put it. It's a belief that government is a place where Americans come together to help each other and I believe that's an American value, I'm sorry that Governor Burke doesn't. The Democratic Party platform is based up that belief in the Declaration of Independence that 'all men are created equal' our founding fathers saw that as an American value, you'd have to ask Governor Burke why he doesn't."

Waiting in the wings, Stacy was smiling. "He didn't really answer the question." Gunny whispered to her.

"He didn't have to, he just put Burke on the wrong side of the Declaration of Independence on national TV, you don't get better then that." She whispered back.

"Mr. President, we're just getting word that the results of the first ballot are in and about to be announced, we're going to go live to Joe Scarborough on the convention floor." Chris announced.

Governor Nash Harder of Ohio was the chairman of the convention and he walked out on to the podium with the results of the first ballot. "The results of the first ballot for the Vice Presidential nomination of the Democratic Party are as follows. The delegate count for this ballot is final and has been presented to the Chairman of the Democratic National Committee and the General Chairman of the Committee to Re-elect the President, both of whom have verified the authenticity of the results." Harder took a deep breath. "After the first ballot, Governor Nolan McKinnon of Florida has 418 delegates; Secretary Andrea Wallace of Washington has 1,112 delegates; Secretary Daniel Proper of Iowa has 1,170 delegates and Admiral Sturgis Turner has 1,539 delegates. Being as 2,162 delegates are required to nominate, Mr. President, we do not have a nominee!" Harder shouted and the convention proceeded to erupt into chaos.

Back up in the MSNBC booth, Chris Matthews turned to face his co-host and the President. "What do you make of those results, Mr. President?"

"The California delegation at the convention is what controls Admiral Turner's lead, Chris. If that delegation went to any of the other three candidates, we'd be looking at a much closer convention right now." The President answered.

"We'll be right back after this break." Matthews shuffled his papers and the camera panned out.

0721 ZULU

HYATT REGENCY HOTEL

SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS

Gunny walked into his room, pulled off his tie and viciously threw it across the room. He ran his hand over the stubble on his cheeks and chin before collapsing on top of the bed without so much as turning the light on. "I think you're in the wrong room." He heard a voice mumble into the pillow.

"I think you are." Gunny protested recognizing the feminine voice. "This is room 403, right?"

"Nope, this is 404." Stacy replied, turning on the bed to face him. "Looks like the guy at the desk gave you the card to this room by mistake." She laughed.

"Ah, son of a bitch." Gunny groaned as he hurled his suit jacket into a pile in the corner of the room. "I'm too tired to go back down and get the right key. Shove over." Gunny went to lift the blanket and she forced it back down. "What's wrong with you?"

"It's summer, it's Texas, I was hot therefore I decided to sleep in the nude." She was too tired to mince words.

"Oh." Gunny mused and a cockeyed grin grew on his face. "Now I kinda want to try and lift it up again."

"Have you been drinking?" She asked, rubbing her eyes hard.

"No." Gunny shook his head in the negative.

"Really?" She questioned, doubting the veracity of his negation.

"Well, maybe a little bit with Senators Hennessy and O'Neill." He grinned foolishly. "There was an open bar down the road from the convention."

"So, the White House Chief of Staff and the Senior Senators from New York and Massachusetts decided to just wander in?" Stacy covered herself as she sat up in the bed.

"Well, you know. It was a pretty exciting night. Tomorrow night's going to be even better." He was tired and hovering between drunk and normal, that was not the state she wanted him in while she was in a state of undress. He was liable to say something stupid. "You know, you've got a really sexy naked back." Like that, she rolled her eyes as he peered at her lecherously.

She looked around and realized that all her clothes were just out of arm's reach and that it was probably a mere matter of seconds before he did something stupid like try to hit on her. "Gunny, don't make me call the Secret Service." She threatened. That got his attention. He perked right up and headed for the door. Stopping for a second, he looked back at her.

"Listen, I know you might think I'm drunk and yeah, maybe I am. But what you said yesterday, about the tension, I just wanted you to know, I get it. I feel it too." He soberly walked through the door after having collected his tie and jacket. She ran a hand through her blonde hair and stared off into the darkness of the hotel room. Damn it, she hated this. Why? Why couldn't they just make it to December? Why had the Gods conspired to do this to them _on_ the campaign trail when the transition period was the perfect time for it?

She sunk back down on to the pillow and turned to face the digital alarm clock that blinked the time at her. Damn it! She cursed the darkness and cloaked herself in it, this would only look worse in the light of day.

1315 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm loved summer. The uniforms were better, the kids didn't have to rush off to school and Mac wasn't in as much of a rush either. He poured some juice for the kids and some milk for Mac and himself. With no school, the kids went off to vacation Bible Camp that Secretary Chegwidden's wife was running over the summer. Matt stayed home with Trish and Frank who really had no problems with looking after him, which was much easier now that he was almost a year old.

Frank's disease was back and they were dealing with it. It had come back just before they had left to go to Barbados in the winter. The fact that he was still having episodes meant that there wasn't going to be a remission this time. He was just going to get worse. He felt Mac touch his arm. "How you doing, sailor?" She smiled brightly at him.

"I'm alright." He kissed her forehead. "Sturgis is in the lead."

"Not by much." Mac took her seat at the table. "I don't want to talk about that. Unless you do. Are you having second thoughts about turning down the offer back in January?"

"Not really." Harm stared down at the table. "I just keep thinking about what he said though. Mac, I'm just not sure what more I can give to the Navy any more."

"Harm," she reached across the table and put a hand on top of his, "you've got a lot of great things in you, a lot. I've been lucky enough to see them come out in the time that we were partners at JAG and now as a husband and father. Harm, only you know if you've got enough gas in the tank to punch out a few more patented Rabb miracles. I can't tell you that. What I can tell you is that as your loving wife, I will give you my complete support in anything you do. I'll stand by your side when you need support and I'll even kick you in the ass when you need it." She blinked hard at him. "You're never getting rid of me, sailor."

"I wouldn't want to." A genuine flyboy grin crept on to his face. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "We got mail today." He walked over to the toaster and threw the toast down on a plate.

"Who writes letters any more?" Mac chuckled as she shuffled through the mail.

"Anyone who can't get to a computer." Harm moved the letter and the food from the counter to the table.

"Or anyone who can't use a computer." Mac nudged him in the thigh.

"Hey, I'm getting better." Harm protested.

"Twelve words a minute is not better." Mac joked. Sasha came down the stairs rubbing her eyes. "Morning, sleepy."

Sasha groaned. "Morning, mom." She replied drowsily.

"You've got mail, kiddo." Harm pointed to the table. Sasha picked up a postcard and saw on the front the picture of the entire Ross family at the Alamo in San Antonio with Tim, Brad, Jack and Harry all making faces at the camera. She giggled and turned the card over.

_Hey Sasha,_

_Mom's making me practice my handwriting. What do you think? Sucks, huh? Things here are hot and dry. Dad keeps telling us that it's Texas, like we didn't know already. Brad's whining, Jack's trying to get in good with the room service chick. I know this sounds wimpy, but I actually kind of miss you. I think there's something wrong with me._

_See you when school starts – Tim_

Sasha tucked the postcard into the pocket on her pyjamas. "What does it say?" Mac inquired of her daughter.

"That Jack's a perv, Brad's a baby and Texas is hot." Sasha answered.

"So, everything's normal with the Ross clan then?" Harm asked as he took a seat at the table.

2318 ZULU

AT&T CENTRE

SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS

"Gunny, we're going to be camped out here overnight." Charlie handed him a coffee. "Last night McKinnon threw his support behind Andrea Wallace, on the next ballot that puts her in a dead heat for first place. Turner only has the lead by nine delegates and every delegation in the place is bigger then nine delegates."

"Any of the other delegations panicking?" Gunny asked.

"No, Secretary Proper was on the phone all night shoring up his flanks to make sure that none of his states slipped out. He was only really in danger of losing Ohio to Wallace, he won't lose that now. Rutledge and Latham were working the phones until five in the morning locking down their Illinois, Pennsylvania and California delegates." Charlie let out a heavy sigh.

"Congressman Rutledge? As in the Chairman of the Congressional Black Caucus?" Gunny inquired.

"Yeah, he's Admiral Turner's campaign chairman." Charlie continued. "Listen, they're going to announce the second ballot in a few minutes. I'll head out to the floor and throw my support publicly, I think you should get down to the Turner war room and start rounding up support. I'd start in the southwest, we can probably get Utah and New Mexico from Proper."

"Charlie, I'm not a neophyte with this any more. I've been White House Chief of Staff for four years, I don't need political tutelage. We're going to wait until they call the second ballot. Then I'll take over the phones with Utah, New Mexico and Texas. You work Ohio, Missouri and Louisiana." Gunny counselled. The two men stood at the entrance to the convention floor awaiting the call of the second ballot when it came.

Governor Nash Harder of Ohio came back out on to the stage and gave his speech about the ballot being finalized and the results having been verified. He then launched into the delegate count. "Admiral Sturgis Turner 1,539; Secretary of State Andrea Wallace 1,530; Secretary of Treasury Daniel Proper 1,170. Being as 2,162 delegates are required to nominate, Mr. President, we do not have a nominee!"

Then it was like someone unleashed a hornet's nest. The first moved was Morley walking across the floor to join Secretary Wallace who was standing with her home state, the Washington delegation. The next big move was Kat who walked across the floor to stand with Danny Proper and the Iowa delegates. Charlie's was the biggest and it earned the most fanfare when he went and stood with Admiral Turner who was with his wife and the Michigan delegation.

The largest amount of unheard cheers happened when Gunny walked into the Turner war room which was a conference room up on the level with the private boxes. He immediately snapped for a phone and Congressman Rutledge handed him one. "Nice to have you on our side." He said.

"We're all on the same side, Congressman. You've just got the second best man." Gunny answered as he punched the number for the New Mexico delegation into the phone.

"Second best? Why don't we have the best man?" Congressman Rutledge asked.

"Because he's already President." Gunny answered as he waited for someone to pick up the other end of the line. After easily wrangling New Mexico, Gunny set to work on Utah just as Charlie and Sturgis came walking through the door. Gunny pointed to Charlie, snapped his fingers and pointed toward a phone. A universal sign that meant 'if you still want a job tomorrow, pick up that damn phone!'. The third ballot was due in two hours after the last ballot was announced, they were crunching the time frame to try an get the results of the third ballot out just before the eleven o'clock news so that if there was a fourth ballot, it made it out before the print deadline on the west coast.

"We've New Mexico and Utah!" Gunny shouted to Congressman Rutledge.

"You can add Tennessee!" Bobbi shouted.

"Missouri, too!" Sturgis joined in, setting the phone down. That was four states that they had just wrestled from Danny Proper in the course of the last twenty minutes. One more would give them momentum heading into the fourth ballot.

"Ohio!" Charlie shouted, setting the phone down.

"What's our total right now, Congressman?" Gunny rushed over to the chalkboard where Rutledge was adding up all the states.

"1,937." Rutledge answered. "We've got all of Proper's big states except Texas, Kentucky and Indiana."

"Those states are full of moderate Democrats, they're going to need to see the results of the next ballot before they abandon Secretary Proper for us." Gunny looked up at the board. "Texas alone would give us 2,169 and the nomination."

"By the hair on the skin of our teeth though." Bobbi interrupted. "Kentucky, Indiana and Texas aren't going to go for Wallace. Let's just wait for the fourth ballot."

SAME TIME

AT&T CENTER

SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS

"Dad, what do you know about girls?" Tim walked over to his father who was suddenly very wide eyed.

"Nothing." Nate answered. "Your mother only married me because I was the first one to ask."

"Come on, dad. Be serious." Tim protested. "What do you know about girls."

"Quite a bit. Why do you ask, son?" Nate motioned for the barstool next to him and Tim crawled up on to it.

"Because I'm starting to think they might not be so weird as they used to be." Tim looked up at his dad.

"Well, you can't judge all women by your mother, she's one of a kind." Nate chuckled, just trying to get his son to react.

"Ewwww, dad. This isn't about mom." Tim lightly smacked his dad's shoulder.

"I didn't think it was. Well, that's the only girl I know anything about." Nate grinned to himself.

"You're not helping!" Tim protested.

"You're right, slugger. So, you're worried because girls aren't weird any more?" Nate questioned.

"Yeah." The young man replied.

"Son, do you know a single person on the planet more weird then your uncle Steve?" Nate looked his son right in the eye. Tim shook his head. "Even Aunty Anna?"

"Even Aunty Anna isn't as weird as Uncle Steve." Tim affirmed.

"Okay, would say that Uncle Steve is weirder then the girls you know?" Nate continued and his son nodded again. "Alright, so are girls really all that weird?" Tim shook his head. "So, why are you worried?"

"Because I feel funny." The youngster sounded lost and sad.

"Funny as in 'ha-ha' or funny as 'my toes tingle'?" Nate sipped at his water.

"Definitely the toes thing." Tim nodded. "Is there something wrong with me?" Nate couldn't help but laugh at the innocent look of panic on his son's face. "Dad! This isn't funny!"

"Son, there's nothing wrong with you, you've just got a little crush that's all." Nate grinned. Agent Simpson walked over and tapped the President on the shoulder and Nate nodded.

"Dad, what's a crush?" Tim asked, still looking slightly lost.

"You'll have to ask your mother about that one." Nate grinned.

"Why?" Tim suddenly felt his gut churn.

"Because it's an embarrassing experience that every boy has to go through, it's part of becoming a man." Nate chuckled. "Sorry, son, but I have to talk with Secret Service for a few minutes, I'll be back. Talk to your mom!" The youngster wandered over to his mom who was sitting with the other boys. "Guys, can I talk to mom alone for a second?"

"Boys…" Nicole shooed them away for a second. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"Mom, what's a crush?" Tim winced he could sense the mom-ness taking over. Soon his mom would begin to smile and talk in a really high pitch, neither of those things were good signs.

"A crush is when, when you develop special feelings for someone, you feel something more then you do for your other friends, it makes that person special to you." Nicole tried to explain without getting into the scientific explanations of hormones and puberty, none of which she thought a ten year old was ready for yet. "Is it Sasha?"

Tim turned a bright red and shook his head fervently while trying to hide the smile on his face. Darn, he couldn't even think of her without smiling; lying to mom was going to be tough. "It's not!"

"Yes it is!" Jack shouted from around a corner where he had been eavesdropping.

"Jonathan Horatio Ross!" Nicole used her 'mother of six' voice and Jack went wide eyed before scampering off across the room. "Now, a crush is nothing to be afraid of. Normally they leave as fast as they come on and everyone gets them even your brothers, though Brad's might have something to do with a hockey puck." Tim giggled. "Are you okay?"

"Mom, did you have a crush on dad?" Tim asked, if his parents had it, it had to be normal, right?

"A long time ago." Nicole answered.

"But you don't any more?" Tim sounded confused.

"If you're lucky, one of your crushes turns into love and then that person becomes the most special in the entire world." Nicole gave her son a quick hug. "Your dad is special for a lot of reasons, but especially because without him, I wouldn't have you guys."

"And he's the President!" Tim added with a grin and Nicole rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, that too." She smiled and she knew that her son felt better.

0436 ZULU (11:36 Central Daylight Time)

AT&T CENTER

SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS

Governor Harder, now serving in his capacity as chairman of the convention received the news rather then delivered it to the convention. That was the job of the Chairman of the Democratic National Committee. He stepped out on to the stage and announced the finalization and verification of the fourth ballot. "Admiral Sturgis Turner of Georgia, 2,926 delegates!" The Chairman announced. "Mr. Chairman, we have a nominee!" He shouted at the top of his lungs and the convention burst into a wave of applause and cheers. "It is my privilege to announce for the first time on this stage, Democratic Nominee for President Nathan Daniel Ross and Democratic Nominee for Vice President Sturgis Turner!"

Nate and Sturgis walked out on to the stage side by side. Nate took Sturgis by the wrist and they raised their hands in the air like prize fighters. There was still two days of convention left. Sturgis looked out into the crowd. 2012, 159 years after Lincoln freed the slaves, the first Black candidate was on the ticket for a major party. A lot of people would say it was a long time coming, and it was. Nicole, Bobbi and Gunny were all invited up on to the stage and what a sight they made, the next day, the Washington Post would refer to them as 'Team America'. They just barely made the print deadline on the East Coast.

Signs that read 'ROSS/TURNER in 2012' were passed out on the convention floor along with noisemakers. After a few minutes of cheering, Sturgis stepped forward and addressed the convention through the microphone. "Thank you." He grinned and the people kept cheering. "I'm sure that from here on out I won't be doing many introductions but since this is my last one, you know that the special guest is going to be pretty good." The convention quieted down. "When the President sent a copy of the Party platform to him and asked him to play the convention, he said he'd have to think about it. Well, he's here tonight. Ladies and Gentlemen, fellow Democrats; Neil Young!"

The blue curtain lifted behind them and Neil Young stepped out on the stage with the band with him. This was the moment that Nate thanked the heavens for. When he was Governor of Pennsylvania, Harm had taken the time out to teach him how to play a few songs on guitar and he was going to join in with Neil on one. He squinted and prayed that he didn't screw it up. He tossed of his jacket and picked up the black Gibson Les Paul that one of the band members handed him. He quickly fingered his way through a few of the scales before nodding at Neil that he was sure he was ready. This must have been how President Clinton felt before the Saxophone stint on Arsenio Hall. The two of them launched into the song and the President stood behind a microphone, thankful he only had to harmonize seven words. He was still thanking God for Harm's patience in teaching him this song.

_There's colours on the street_

_Red, white and blue_

_People shuffling their feet_

_People sleeping in their shoes_

_There's a warning sign on the road ahead_

_There's a lot of people saying we'd be better off dead_

_Don't feel like Satan but I am to them_

_So, I try to forget it any way I can_

Now came the time for Nate to just get away with those seven words. His guitar playing so far had actually been pretty good, but he'd been practising over the last few days in the hotel just to make sure it was up to par.

_Keep on rocking in the free world_

_Keep on rocking in the free world_

_Keep on rocking in the free world_

_Keep on rocking in the free world_

Whew, okay that was done, Nate thanked God and kept playing, still worried.

_I see a woman in the night_

_With a baby in her hand_

_Under an old street light_

_Near a garbage can_

_Now, she puts the kid away and she's going to get a hit_

_She hates her life and what she's done to it_

_There's on more kid who will never go to school_

_Never get to fall in love, never get to be cool_

Neil waved the President over to the main microphone for the chorus and Nate grinned

_Keep on rocking in the free world_

_Keep on rocking in the free world_

_Keep on rocking in the free world_

_Keep on rocking in the free world_

_We've got a thousand points of light_

_For the homeless man_

_We've got a kinder, gentler machine gun hand_

_We've got department stores and toilet paper_

_Got Styrofoam boxes for the Ozone layer_

_Got a man of the people, says keep hope alive_

_Clean fuel to burn, got roads to drive_

_Keep on rocking in the free world_

_Keep on rocking in the free world_

_Keep on rocking in the free world_

_Keep on rocking in the free world_

The crowd leapt to it's feet. The President was visibly sweating under the lights and thankful that the experience was over. Neil draped his arms over Nate's shoulders, the microphone still on. "A real man of the people right here!" He called and the convention erupted into massive cheers. He opened his jacket to reveal a t-shirt that had been made hastily backstage that read "Ross/Turner 2012!"

The next day, the media spectacle was over them moon. The headline of the New York Times was "Democrats Pick Turner"; the Washington Post read "Dems Rock With Turner!" and the LA Times read "Dems to GOP: Bring it On!"


	47. The Sign of the Mule

"Are not!" Stacy shouted as she and Gunny came walking back into the President's office on Air Force One.

"Are too!" Gunny answered her.

"Children, if you're going to fight, I'm going to send you to bed without dinner." The President covered the receiver to the phone with his hand. "I'm sorry Mr. Prime Minister, I'm going to have to call you back." The President set down his phone. "The Prime Minister of Great Britain now thinks that I have a couple of twits working for me, I hope the two of you are happy."

"She started it." Gunny started.

"I did not, he thinks that I'm holding too many one on ones with members of the Press Corps and that only you should have that prerogative." Stacy interjected. "However as the member of this administration with the most contact daily with the press, I should have some input as to press policy with this campaign."

"And you do." The President decided to interrupt this fight. "But I've already decided that I'm going to do a one on one sit-down with the guy from the Wall Street Journal every night of the campaign from here on out."

"I'll have to put out some fires with the Post and the Times." Stacy warned.

"Tell them that they didn't ask and he did." The President instructed.

"I think you know it's not that simple, sir." Stacy stated respectfully.

"I figured it was worth a shot." The President grinned and Stacy left the room. The President looked up at Gunny. "I need you to head back to Washington for the next two months or so. Congress is out of session and thus far no one has decided to blow anything up internationally but I can only imagine the chaos that the West Wing is in without senior staff. I need you there to anchor things into place."

"Well, I serve at the pleasure of the President, sir but if this has anything to do with my conduct on the campaign trail…" Gunny started.

"No, so far I think I'm the only person who's been able to out campaign you on this one and even then it's a close race." The President chuckled. "You're the Chief of Staff, the firm hand that controls the bureaucratic machinery and you've done a good job of it for almost four years, I just need to make sure that no fires spring up while we're out here campaigning."

"Yes, sir." Gunny nodded. "I'll be at the event in Miami and then I'll head back to Washington. You can meet up with Admiral Turner in Colorado Springs."

"Thanks, Gunny." The President removed a pen from his breast pocket. "Did you know the Brits were having an election right now, too?"

"Yes, sir." Gunny nodded.

"And you didn't tell me?" The President feigned disappointment.

"Sir, this election is going to cost hundreds of millions of dollars and determine the course of future American policy, I figured that your passing interest in British politics could take a back seat, yes." Gunny smacked his green clipboard.

"Is Cunningham in trouble?" The President leaned back in his chair.

"Labour's coming up hard on his left, even the Liberal Democrats are making some big gains on him." Gunny hesitated to keep going. "The big worry is Sinn Fein."

"Oh yeah, because there's six words that every President likes to hear before an election in the United Kingdom." The President ran a hand over his chin.

"Well, there's been an anticipated demographic shift in the north for some time now. They're expecting Sinn Fein could double the amount of members it would have abstaining from parliament." Gunny explained. "Which would double their caucus from five members of parliament and…"

"And leave half of Northern Ireland without representation in Westminster, which could have any number of consequences, some we can't even know." The President finished. "Alright, I foresee the incoming British PM, whoever he is, is going to have to deal with this, which luckily means that we don't have to."

"Yes, sir." Gunny nodded. "We should be in Miami in a few minutes, sir. Are you starting to miss Morley, sir?" The Communications Director had been sent to advise with the Turner half of the campaign.

"I just wish we'd sent a camera so that Bobbi could film Sturgis and Morley locking horns on policy issues, that would be priceless." The President grinned as he picked the phone back up.

1934 ZULU

KANSAS CITY HALL

KANSAS CITY, MISSOURI

The crowd was juiced up at city hall. Sturgis Turner, Democratic Nominee for Vice President had been on stage for the last twenty minutes delivering his speech to the people who had come out to this outdoor event which was around some forty thousand. Kansas City was right on the doorstep of the Republican Candidate, Governor Larry Burke's home state. Morley stood just off stage watching the hopeful Vice President capture the imagination of the crowd. "President Reagan and Republicans since him, have been saying that government's the problem. They point to the monuments of the middle class, the pillars of America created by FDR and they say that those monuments and those pillars are what's wrong with this country. My friends, I tell you that they're wrong. It's their mindset that exemplifies the biggest problem facing this country. Government is the one place where we can all work together to achieve some greater, more noble America.

An America based on a common trust; on the idea that level of opportunity is not dependent on level of income. We want to save social security!" There was an applause break. "We want to save Medicare and Medicaid. And we want to make it so that every kid has a chance to go to school and live their dreams. America is a land of dreams and a paradise of dreamers, for what greater dream has ever existed then the idea that all men are created equal? I ask you today, if we are all created equal as the Founders said we are, then are we not entitled to equal opportunity?!" A cheer rose up from the crowd. "The Republicans are busy, they're trying to convince you that they're not in the best pockets of big business. They don't want you to notice that Governor Burke cut funding for the prosecution of gun crimes in Kansas for his buddies in the Gun Industry. And they don't want you to notice that his running mate Senator Jeff Hayes has voted time and again in favour of tax cuts for the richest one percent, leaving Middle America a greater share of the tax burden. But we're smarter then that, America; we noticed." Sturgis was interrupted for applause again, he smiled and took a drink of water.

"On November 3rd, you've got a choice America. On the one hand you've got the President and I. This President increased funding for law enforcement, this President who signed the expanded the College Tax Credit for working class parents, this President and this Party who has worked tirelessly for peace and whom I will give every fibre of my being to help them continue to do so. And on the other hand you've got………well, I guess it isn't much of a choice on the other hand, is it?" There were laughs from the crowd. "Vote Democratic on November 3rd, thank you, Kansas City!"

Sturgis walked down off the stage to the sounds of R.O.C.K in the U.S.A. He unbuttoned his cuffs and walked over to join his staff. Congressman Rutledge was running unopposed for his seat in Illinois so, he had agreed to stay on as the Campaign Director for Sturgis' half of the race. "How was that Morley?" Sturgis looked over at the White House Communications Director.

"You left out the section on Prescriptions, sir." Morley answered.

"Derek, it was twenty-five minute speech, I felt that if I tried to go into any more policy with them, I was going to bore them to death." Sturgis rolled his sleeves up as they got into the motorcade.

"Morley, I'm checking out the itinerary, why are we meeting the President in the Colorado 5th District? No Democrat has won the Colorado 5th in decades." Bobbi was flipping through the pages in front of her.

"It's been forty years, I guess the President thinks we're due, Senator." Morley joked. "We're meeting him there because it's Colorado Springs which is huge in terms of Colorado's electoral votes and it's the home of NORAD."

"It's also the home of Focus on the Family, why is he running a crash course with evangelicals?" Bobbi pointed out.

"Because the President is a firm believer in the old adage that the greatest tragedy ever committed against American politics was that the Religious Right somehow amalgamated the Party of the Rich and God." Morley answered. "To strike at the heart of hypocrisy, you actually have to get within striking distance of the heart."

"As long as he's not going to talk about abortion or gay marriage at the heart of the Evangelical sphere, I don't see this being a real problem. The President narrowly lost Colorado last time, I believe the final tally was 857 votes. We can win it, Arizona and Nevada this time making a clean sweep of the southwest." Congressman Rutledge intervened. "Our co-operative government message has some resonance in the Evangelical community, I trust that the President is going to play on that?"

"I think he's going to try. But you'd have to talk to Kat O'Leary, she's the President's Red State expert." Morley thought Kat an extraordinary person, at thirty she was the White House Deputy Communications Director and a graduate of both Duke and Notre Dame.

"Red State expert?" Sturgis raised a curious eyebrow.

"Born in North Carolina, educated in South Carolina and Indiana." Morley explained. "She's worked on Senatorial and Gubernatorial campaigns in the south since she was sixteen. If we'd had her on the first campaign we would have won South Carolina and Tennessee."

"You won 412 out of 538 electoral votes last time, I think you can stop with the brooding." Congressman Rutledge suggested. "There are some states that are just never going to be comfortable with Nathan Ross as the Commander in Chief, that's something that we need to get over and move on." The Congressman scribbled a few notes on the paper. "Nothing against the President, they just wouldn't be comfortable with any Democrat in that position."

"That's unfortunate, isn't it? We create 4.7 million jobs in one term, raise the university and trades school admission rates, raise the minimum wage, crackdown on lobbyists in Congress and corporate influence on campaigns; we brought gays into the military, appointed the first African American woman to the Supreme Court and the President won a Nobel Peace Prize all in four years and some people _still_ aren't convinced?" Morley intertwined his fingers.

"Think you can write all that into my next speech? Sturgis asked humorously.

2141 ZULU

WASHINGTON NAVY YARD

WASHINGTON, DC

"Is it weird that Sturgis could be our boss in a few months?" Harm asked while reviewing the latest recruitment numbers for a report to the President.

"He was our boss a few weeks ago. In fact, if memory serves, he hasn't resigned his post as Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, so he's still our boss." Bax answered. "Is this right? Enlistment's up fifteen percent?"

"We've dedicated a new aircraft carrier and we've got a new ad campaign out, that tends to boost recruitment. Not normally fifteen percent, but sometimes it's nice to be pleasantly surprised." Bax had a pen lid dangling from his teeth.

"Think it might have anything with more liberals being attracted to the military with the first Marine President being a Democrat?" Harm asked, trying to rationalize the unusual spike in recruitment.

"Harm, I think you're reaching for the stars on that one." Bax answered with a friendly grin.

"No, I mean just think about it for a second. The President talks about military matters regularly, never criticizes the military and always goes to almost extraordinary lengths to highlight the positive aspects of the service. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was trying to boost recruitment. Ah, but what the hell am I thinking? You're probably right, it's a statistical anomaly." Harm drew a line of fluorescent blue ink over that part of the recruitment portion. "I've been thinking about something that he said, Bax."

"Harm, what's on your mind?" Bax looked ominously suspicious. It was a natural trait when you had come to know someone for thirty years and they all of a sudden started talking about the future.

"He offered me the Vice Presidency, Bax." Harm crumbled. "He offered it to me and I turned him down." Harm confessed, trying to alleviated the stress that he had been feeling now four, maybe five people knew the question which had been asked in the Oval Office that January night.

"I hope, when he offered you the Vice Presidency, and Harm I mean this with the most sincere of respect, that he noticed the same characteristics we've all noticed. You're a good man, my friend. Good men are so hard to come by in this day that having one where he belongs; that's even rarer." Bax gave Harm a pat on the shoulder. "Buddy, I've come to realize a lot of things since I married Jen. I think I matured fifteen years overnight." Bax chuckled nervously. "Harm, even you have to know by now that you were meant for greater things."

"Have you been talking with Mac lately, because she's been spouting that same kind of rhetoric." Harm grinned as he looked up from the recruitment reports.

"You're a good guy, buddy. Don't think that any of us missed that fact. We all know; Mac, Sturgis, Keeter, Me; Hell, Nate obviously knew. Why did you tell him 'no'. Harm?" Bax asked, laying the papers down on the desk in front of him.

"I don't know, I suppose that my life in the Navy felt incomplete." Harm rubbed his eyes.

"Harm, you've had a rough go of it when it comes to the Navy." Bax started. "You lost your dad to it; you lost the life of a RIO to it; you almost lost Mac because of your obsession with flying. No one understands this service and its sacrifices better then you do. If you think there's still work to be done, then trust me when I tell you that I'll back you all the way." Bax grinned. "Though Hell may mount its armies against us."

"Well thanks, Bax……I think." Harm looked confused. "I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, I don't know why I told you."

"You've always seen me like your older brother. I don't know why, especially since I've only got a few months on you." Bax went back to marking up the recruitment report.

"Getting back to earlier, what the hell did you mean by that 'obsession with flying' crack?" Harm chuckled. "I'm really starting to think that you've been talking with Mac too much."

"Mac talks to Jen, Jen talks to me. That's how it works, get used to it." Bax moved to the next page of the report. "I think you're right about the carrier boosting recruitment, most of the new recruits are applying for flight deck crap."

"Flight deck crap?" Harm questioned, thinking it odd that the Chief of Naval Operations would use such terms to describe such an invaluable part of the Navy.

"Harm, I spent most of my career as a SEAL and in Naval Intelligence, to me, what you did on the deck of a carrier will always be flight deck crap." Bax laughed again. "Now, we really need to get this done or Tom Boone is going to tear a strip off of me, which is going to be followed by Secretary Chegwidden tearing a strip off of me."

2228 ZULU

AIR FORCE ONE

EN ROUTE TO COLORADO SPRINGS

"You busy, honey?" Nicole poked her head in the door to his office.

"The President of the United States is busy? I can't think of any reason why that would be." Nate grinned at her. "Never too busy for you. How are the boys?"

"Well, you know how they love Air Force One." She walked over and took a seat in his lap. "I noticed Gunny's not on the plane."

"I sent him back to the ranch to make sure that no one burns the place down while we're out here." The President lightly brushed some hair off of his wife's shoulder. "Is it just me or is campaigning far less sexy when there's less chance of you and me ending up in the back of a bus together in Nashua, New Hampshire?"

"I'm sure if you told the Colonel flying this thing that you wanted to go, he'd take us to Nashua." Nicole kissed her husband lightly on the cheek. "Anyway, I came in here to talk about Gunny."

"Why are we talking about Gunny?" The President asked.

"Because you sent him back to Washington after his third fight with Stacy in as many days and I think you're doing a little matchmaking." She leaned against his chest.

"Oh, you do, do you?" The President grinned sheepishly.

"Yes, I do. You and I both know that the idea of absence making the heart grow fonder is reality." She lightly teased him my slowly running her index finger over his thigh.

"You don't think that it's possible that I just didn't want to see my Chief of Staff and my Press Secretary kill each other at thirty thousand feet?" The President asked, sorely tempted to just lay his wife out on the large desk in front of him and have his way with her. Realizing that this might be something of a scandal, he decided against it.

"I think that's a part of it. But I know you better then anyone else, Nathan Ross, you've got an ulterior motive, you always do." She turned in his lap and pressed her index finger into his chest.

"I may." The President winked at her. "But I think I'm going to need to be tortured before you can get it out of me." The heat that had been building in the room would set kindling ablaze in a giant flash of flame. She leaned forward on his chest and locked her lips to his. It was moments like these that caused every single proclivity to precaution to go flying out the window. The President fixed his hands firmly on his wife's hips as she ground against him. After the kiss, she pulled back a second and took him by the tie.

"How about now, Mr. President?" Her use of his title sending that extra little thrill right down his spine into his toes.

"I think I've still got a little will power left." Nate's smirk was one of a goofy love-struck teenager. Nicole had her hands one either side of her husband's face as she leaned back down to kiss him again. She knew that he liked to envelope himself in the Presidential Seal during working hours. She loved cracking that seal.

She could tell that she already had, too, because his left hand was running through her hair as his lips made their way down to the silken skin on her neck. "Nate…" She bit her bottom lip. "Any chance that we might be interrupted?"

"Me President…" He muttered in between kisses. "Everyone knock."

"Thanks, caveman." She chuckled in between kisses, her own hands running through his hair. Skilfully, she used her other hand to untie his tie and she tossed it off of him. Neither of them noticed the tie hit Charlie in the face as he walked into the office. The Deputy Chief of Staff cleared his throat and you could hear the exasperated groans from the President and First Lady.

"Charlie, I thought we had an understanding as men that extended from the campaign a few years ago?" The President asked as his wife unstraddled him.

"We do, sir, but I think we're going to need to come up with a less conspicuous sign this time around." Charlie explained.

"Why's that, Charlie?" The President got to his feet.

"Well, sir, last time the press had a separate bus. This time, they're on the plane and being as it's a fair bet that they all went to college, I think they might know what a sock on the doorknob means." Charlie explained which caused the First Lady to giggle.

"Alright, you two definitely need to come up with a better way of letting the staff know that we're having……personal time and are not to be disturbed. And Nate, it can't involve putting any weird articles of clothing anywhere on the doorknob." The First Lady lectured. "Like a code phrase or something."

"Operation Screwing Eagle." The President answered with a cockeyed grin.

"I swear to God, Nate." The First Lady rolled her eyes. "If you make one force insertion joke…" The President realized that he should probably switch focus right now.

"Charlie, what did you want to see me about?" He turned to his Deputy Chief of Staff. Charlie handed him the latest poll numbers. "These are the same numbers we've been seeing for months; Ross 54, Burke 44."

"The pollsters are worried that the numbers are a little soft and that they could change after the convention. Basically, that the margin is going to shift in favour of the GOP and it'll be a 51-47 race. We'd still be leading, but it's a four point lead instead of a ten point lead." Charlie finished his analysis in time to see the First Lady yank the poll numbers out of her husband's hand. She quickly flipped to the region by region breakdown.

"You're spending more time in the southwest, the plains and the south." She told her husband.

"It makes you feel powerful that you can give the President an order, doesn't it?" Nate mused.

"Well, it's not so much an order as it is that I'll withhold sex until you listen to me." She replied, suggestively wiggling her eyebrows. She headed for the door to the office.

"Honey?" The President looked up from the polls to his wife. "You were right about the ulterior motive." She bit her bottom lip again and nodded at her husband.

2401 ZULU

PALMER PARK

COLORADO SPRINGS, COLORADO

"You should talk about military pay raises and increased funding for the VA." Charlie counselled as they got to the stage. "Sir, there are five major military installations in this town; you need to mention something about it. You're going to look weak on Daddy issues."

"Daddy issues?" Sturgis questioned, not being familiar with every aspect of political jargon.

"When voters want a father figure, someone to keep them safe from the big bad evils of the world, they vote Republican. When they want a Mommy who'll give them jobs and healthcare and things like that, they vote Democratic." Bobbi told her husband. The intro to _Rockin' In the Free World_ played and Sturgis bounded up on to the stage.

"How you feeling out there, Colorado Springs?!" Sturgis immediately engaged the crowd. "You know, I'm going to bring out the President in a few minutes but before I do, I want to give you just a few reasons why this man has made me proud to be both an American and a Democrat over the last four years. 4.7 million new jobs created during his first term while overseeing a raise in wages and benefits for working class America; university applications and admissions are up 12 percent, trade school applications and admission are up 19 percent and test scores are up, raising our standard of education to a comparable level with other industrialized nations. American students have gone from nineteenth out of twenty-one leading industrial nations in math and science to eleventh." There was applause from the crowd and Sturgis chuckled.

"This President and this Congress got corporate lobbyists out of the halls of Congress. Because the House of Representatives is the People's House and it was never put on the real estate market for corporate interests!" Sturgis proclaimed to a cheering crowd. At the same time, this administration has been one of inclusion. We amended the UCMJ to end discrimination against gays in the military. This President was the first to appoint an African American woman to the Supreme Court and the first President two ever put two women on the court. This White House has seen the first Hispanic Chief of Staff and only the second female Secretary of State in our nation's history. I guess I don't need to tell you that I'm a first." Sturgis let out a self deprecating chuckle. "Now, you've got the first African American on a major party ticket and guess what, Ladies and Gentlemen? He's a Democrat!" There was a massive wave of applause from the crowd. Sturgis smiled brightly.

"Now, I'm going to tell you something that the President doesn't like to bring up." He sat on the edge of the stage. "He won a Nobel Peace Prize. It's true, you can look it up. Did you know that only four American Presidents have _ever_ won one of those? It's true; Teddy Roosevelt, Woodrow Wilson, Jimmy Carter and now our President. It's a testament, it tells the world that America doesn't always need might to make right; that the key to our security is peace. Peace is measured not by our ability to avoid conflict, but by our ability to resolve conflict through peaceful means and under this President, that's exactly what we've done." Sturgis had sufficiently warmed up the crowd, now it was time to bring on the main attraction. "Without further ado, Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States."

0304 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"Are you still reading that damn Nimitz biography?" Mac saw Harm with his back propped up against the headboard of the bed.

"I'm sorry, your honour, I don't actually get a lot of reading time in at my job, sometimes I like to settle down with a good book." Harm adjusted the lamp at his bedside.

"A little touchy, are we Harm?" Mac asked as she crawled under the covers.

"I'm sorry, Mac. It's been a rough week." Harm rubbed his eyes. "It just all kind of hit me last week when I saw Sturgis at the convention accepting the nomination of a national party for Vice President and it all kind of dawned on me in a way that it hadn't last winter."

"You realized that it could have been you up on that stage?" Mac turned on her side to face her husband.

"Yeah, I mean, I know it's stupid to feel that way because Sturgis will be a great Vice President and God knows, it's about time we had an African American on a ticket but still…" Harm set the book down on his nightstand.

"Would have been nice to be Vice President?" Mac wrapped her arms around his middle and put her chin on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I mean just think of all the perks. Like Air Force Two." Harm grinned wickedly. "Think they would have let me fly it?"

"I think the Air Force is pretty particular about Navy jocks playing with their toys." Mac giggled.

"Yeah, but if I was the Vice President, I could order them to let me fly it." Harm kissed her hand. "I wonder if Sturgis will let me fly it."

"I think he'd be too scared that you would try and land it on a carrier." Mac lightly tickled his abs.

"Mac, you couldn't land Air Force Two on a carrier, it's too big." Harm lightly placed a kiss on her forehead. "I don't think I'm foolhardy enough to try."

"There's been a lot of talk about flying and your place in the Navy lately. Does this have something to do with Frank's illness?" Mac put a soothing hand on his back.

"It has to be the worst thing in the world, Mac; to watch someone slowly die and know that there's nothing in the world that can help them." He lay back down on the bed. "I don't understand how mom can do it, I really don't. When she lost dad, she was a wreck, Mac. I may not have liked Frank all that much when I was younger but at least he made her happy…It's not fair that she has to go through it all again."

"You're right, it's not fair but Harm, she'll have us this time. If she needs help, she's got this strong, mature son who can help her and a daughter in law that's willing to do all she can." Mac hugged him tight.

"When I said I don't understand how mom can do it, what I meant was…Mac, I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you." He faced his wife and cupped her cheek in his hand. "I mean it, ninja-girl."

"Dusting off a classic there, Harm?" Mac beamed a genuine smile at him. "You don't have to worry about me, Harm. I'm not going anywhere." She leaned in to kiss him. "And just in case my pulling you out of the freezing Atlantic after you flew through a thunderstorm and then saving your Navy neck in Borneo a decade ago isn't proof enough, I wouldn't be able to live without you either, flyboy."

"Are you trying to say that you have a habit of saving my neck?" Harm cuddled with his wife.

"That, or just being in the right place at the right time." Mac replied with a quick flick against her husband's chest. "Now, are you going to kiss me or not?"

0425 ZULU

GUNNY'S APARTMENT

3 BLOCKS FROM THE CAPITOL

Gunny padded over to his computer and logged on to the Campaign chatroom to see if he could get some updates from anyone working on senior staff.

TheChief has logged on…

TheChief: Hello? Anyone out there in Ross/Turner land?

MediaDarling: Hey boss, how are things back at the big house?

TheChief: From now on, we hire a paper-sorter whenever all members of senior staff leave the building.

MediaDarling: Organized chaos?

TheChief: That would have been a step up. You guy on the plane to Raleigh?

MediaDarling: The First Lady saw the poll numbers and is booking the President all over the south, plains and southwest.

TheChief: Poor Harriet, I imagine Mrs. Ross is quite the taskmaster when she gets like this. How was the five o'clock briefing?

MediaDarling: The Times and the Post were pissed about the nightly interviews that the President is giving the Journal.

TheChief: What was it Will Rogers said?

MediaDarling: I don't belong to an organized political party, I'm a Democrat

TheChief: That's it

MediaDarling: You should see the President with the reporter from the Journal, they're getting on like old friends.

TheChief: Charm and disarm, you helped him master that game.

MediaDarling: A compliment? From you? I think I just choked on my coffee.

TheChief: Come on, I compliment you

MediaDarling: When?

TheChief:………..

MediaDarling: That's what I thought.

TheChief: How did the event in Colorado Springs go?

MediaDarling: Great, I think Admiral Turner almost stole the show, though. Nice topic change by the way, smooth.

TheChief: It wasn't a topic change, it was me trying to do my job.

MediaDarling: I just want to hear one compliment and I'll leave you alone

TheChief: No

MediaDarling: Pweeze makes puppy face I'll pout

TheChief: That doesn't work on me

MediaDarling: It does, and you know it

TheChief: No, it really doesn't

MediaDarling: You can't do it

TheChief: I could if I wanted to

MediaDarling: One compliment and I'll let the whole topic drop

TheChief: You've got great legs

MediaDarling: Whoa! Wasn't expecting that!

TheChief: I'm going to bed.

MediaDarling: No, wait!

TheChief has logged off…


	48. The Sign of the Elephant

"Have we heard back from the debate commission yet?" Stacy and Gunny were walking through the halls of the West Wing toward the Communications bullpen.

"Not yet, the Burke camp is still hoping for two debates, we're hoping for four." Gunny replied. "Not that I can blame them. These Presidential debates are going to be like watching Superman go toe to toe with Homer Simpson."

"No one in this White House seems to hold Governor Burke in very high esteem." Stacy crossed her arms over her chest as they neared her office.

"That's because two terms in Congress and one term as Governor of Kansas does not qualify you to be President. Has he ever had to deal with a major crisis? Ever balanced a budget? Won a Nobel Peace Prize? Served in uniform? The President was named Time Magazine's Man of the Year three times; once before he even became President. How many times has Governor Burke held that honour?" Gunny explained. "To sit behind that desk, you've got to be made of spun steel and have a mind like a bear trap. There are Republicans, quite a few of them, who have those qualities. Larry Burke is not one of them."

"Alright, calm down. Focus on my legs, if that'll make you feel better." She giggled as the tension slightly eased.

"You're never going to let me live that down are you?" He hung his head slightly embarrassed.

"Depends, I better not receive nylons or a mini skirt for my birthday." She sauntered over to her desk, letting her hips sway seductively from side to side. "Even then, I'm not sure I'll be able to let go of that little tidbit."

"So, you're going to torture me with it?" He grinned from ear to ear.

"Like I said, it all depends on what I get for my birthday." Her teeth shone a sparkling pearl white as she gathered her notes for the two o'clock briefing. "The Republicans have their convention this week."

"Oh great, a four day crash course on why liberals are evil." Gunny rolled his eyes. "I think I'm going to need to find a watering hole and try to drown my frustrations this week."

"Why don't you just do what the President, Morley and Charlie had intended on doing?" Stacy looked up at him. "They get an eighteen year old bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue, some Stoli and they play the RNC drinking game."

"We can never let the public know some of the eccentricities of this White House; they'd want their money back." He scratched his brow with his index finger. "I should probably go just to prevent Morley from hurling a bottle at the television set and forcing Secret Service to crash the Oval."

"Isn't Morley supposed to be with the Vice President?" Stacy looked up from her computer screen.

"You can't call Admiral Turner the Vice President, yet. Do you really want to offend the God of the electorate? No, now you've got to go outside spin around three times, throw salt over your shoulder, curse and spit." Gunny instructed and Stacy looked at him as though he had lost his mind.

"What are we doing now?" Charlie appeared from around the corner.

"Apparently, we're spinning, cursing, spitting and throwing condiments." Stacy shifted her eyes to Charlie for a second.

"Sounds like fun." The Deputy Chief of Staff walked into the office. "Latest poll numbers." He handed Gunny the sheet.

"What does it say?" Stacy leaned on her elbows on her desk.

"Ross 53, Burke 44." Gunny answered. "We dropped one point but they didn't pick up any. I guess that's something of a pyrrhic victory."

"Hell, as long as we stay over 50, we're going to get re-elected." She got up from her chair to stand next to him. "We really need those debates."

"Yeah." Gunny sighed and she put a hand on his shoulder. "It's just, I've been spending a lot of time with Charlie and Mitch on campaign strategy and they're both right. We need to win this one big, this needs to be LBJ in 1964 not Wilson in 1916."

"If the President can trust anyone to make it happen, it's you." She replied. "Just remember my birthday's Thursday because you forgot last year."

"Yeah, yeah." Gunny waved over his shoulder as he headed out of her office and back toward her own.

1617 ZULU

NORFOLK NAVAL BASE  
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA

Admiral Harmon Rabb Jr. walked the gangplank up on to the _U.S.S. Robert F. Kennedy_. It was a routine inspection. With the rolling out of the new Ford Class carriers, the DoD had decided to scale back the _Halsey _class experiment of amphibious assault ships. They would still run the two that they had, the _Boston Bob_ in the Atlantic and the _Bull_ out at Pearl but they weren't going to commission any more. "Admiral on deck!" He heard a familiar voice call. Harm looked up to see Tuna, now Captain Terry Medwick and the Skipper on the _Boston Bob_, ready to meet him at the top of the plank.

Tuna fired off a salute at his former shipmate. "Welcome to the Boston Bob, Admiral." Harm returned the salute.

"Nice to see you, Tuna." Harm shook the hand of his former wingman.

"Admiral, how are things flying a desk in Washington?" Tuna and Harm walked across the flight deck.

"Nothing like it is out here in the real Navy." Harm flared his nostrils wide taking in the welcoming scent of jet fuel. God, he missed this. There were times, though they certainly came less often recently, that he regretted being one of those fast track types. He regretted having friends at the top who were always willing to give him that leg up. He always felt pulled to want to have that one last launch off the deck, that one last flight, soaring over the pristine blue water, wearing the cockpit like finely tailored suit.

For a second, finely tailored suit became an apt metaphor for how his Navy career had gone. From the Judge Advocate General to Deputy Chief of Naval Operations to Vice Chief of Naval Operations. He'd descended into the depths of the brass. His friends were all getting their last hurrahs. Keeter was still keeping his flight hours up as he worked out of Pearl as the Deputy Commander of the Pacific Fleet. Sturgis was running for Vice President of the United States after having been elevated to the second highest military office in the land. Bax, well of the four of them, Bax seemed to be the most predisposed to good fortune in the Navy. He'd served as the Commander of CENTCOM and he was Chief of Naval Operations.

But Harm did a double take; sure, he'd made some professional sacrifices but he also had the richest family life. He had a loving wife, who was now a Supreme Court Justice and three wonderful kids. When you held those two spheres of your life up in contrast, the Navy didn't even come near to matching what he had in that cozy house in Arlington. "Hammer…er, Admiral, sorry sir. Do you miss it?" Tuna asked, watching Harm look over the deck

"Not as much as I used to." Harm answered honestly and couldn't believe his sentimentality. The two of them stepped inside the island. "So, what's it like being the Skipper for a bunch of jarhead jocks?"

"Most of the time, it's not that bad. They run patrols almost as well as we do and God knows they've got more discipline." Tuna and Harm shared a laugh. "But you've got to send the Shore Patrol and the MPs after them to get them back after a liberty."

"Yeah, those Marines sure have a wild side." Harm chuckled nervously.

"I suppose that's why you've got three kids, huh sir?" Tuna chanced, unable to control his want to play around with Harm.

"Have you given up on making Rear Admiral, Captain Medwick?" Harm asked in semi-serious tone. One thing about having stars on your shoulder was that it gave you endless opportunities to screw with the heads of junior officers.

"That's your subtle way of telling me that I should probably shut my trap, isn't it, sir?" Tuna asked as they climbed the stairs to the bridge.

"Was I being subtle?" Harm asked as they moved on to the bridge. "Any problems with the ship structure itself, Captain?"

"Well, the men thought that the place was big enough that we could have a corner bar installed but other then that, nothing to report, Admiral. For her first cruise in the Med, she performed admirably." Captain Medwick made a few notes and handed them off to his XO. "A few of the pilots were a little green, but they got used to it."

"Anything specific?" Harm leaned on the Captain's chair.

"Almost had a problem when one of the jump-jets seemed to have lost its jump. That sure rattled the pilot but good. He's fine now though, I had him talk to the Chaplain." Tuna answered. The Chaplain was a godsend on this and any other ship that had aviators on it. A key element of their job was confidence and when you felt you'd lost it, it was nice to have someone on board who could help you get it back. Psychiatrists would be turned to in any other profession but in the Navy, any aviator with a psych evaluation on his or her record got a subconscious black ball from any prospective Captain. They were risks, and Captains looking to move up in the ranks weren't partial to risks that could tar their records with the brass.

Toby Ingles had been an exception to that rule when Harm went back to flying on the _Patrick Henry_ and now Terry Medwick was shaping up to be the same kind of Captain. When Harm looked back on it, between Arleigh Burke and David Farragut, the Navy was built on that kind of Captain. "Nothing else to report, Captain Medwick?" Harm looked up from his inspection sheet.

"No, sir. Tuna nodded at his boss.

"Alright then, Captain, care to take me on a tour of your ship?" Harm asked and Tuna led him off of the bridge. "Tuna, this better end at the mess, I'm damn hungry" Harm complained as they climbed down the stairs.

0204 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

The President had cracked open the bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue and poured a few refills. Morley and Charlie couldn't hold their liquor, it made things rather entertaining. Of course, for their part, the two former Marines in the room were still trying to see if they could drink each other under the table. It was the only way that they could deal with the shameless rhetoric that seemed to be pouring out of the television set.

Morley was on 'Liberal' patrol. It was his job to mark down on a piece of paper, a tally of every time one of the speakers used the word for the purposes of insulting or otherwise negating the values of a policy. He was the only one partaking of the vodka as they watched the Republican convention. The whole thing seemed like the Wizard of Oz or just completely masturbatory for Evangelicals; they had prominently placed their leading Evangelical Senators prominently. Leading Evangelicals were sitting with the news networks and to top it all off they had their candidate.

The President rolled his eyes every time the word 'liberal' was used as if it were synonymous with 'evil' and every time the phrase 'American values' was used as if the Republican Party had a monopoly on what they were. "How many 'liberals' are we up to now, Morley?" Gunny asked over his shoulder.

"Forty-one." Morley answered as he finished off his latest shot of vodka.

"Why don't you come over here and have some scotch, like a real politician." The President goaded.

"Because vodka is a poet's drink, sir. You know what you always say; we campaign in poetry and govern in prose." Morley answered as he poured himself another shot.

"If that's true, then with the amount of vodka you've drank tonight, you should be Lord Byron by now." Gunny mused. "And, it wasn't the President who first said that poetry and prose thing, it was former New York Governor Mario Cuomo."

"Ten points to Gunny for picking up the obscure quote reference." The President clinked his glass against Gunny's before taking a drink. It was the first night of the convention which meant that the Party's most recent former President took the podium. All the men in the room focused keenly on the television as former President Andrew Russell took the stage. It was like standing on the edge of a knife for both the men in the Oval Office at that moment at the Republican Party. The former President was far more moderate then the current party; that was the worry of the Republicans at the convention in Milwaukee. The worry of the men in the Oval was far more personal. President Russell had kick-started Nate's political career when he named him Secretary of State; to have him turn around and kick Nate now would be like watching Benedict Arnold dine with George Washington after the Revolution.

The former President took to the stage to massive applause. "I had a speech prepared," he started, "but I'm going to wing it."

Back in the Oval Office, the White House staffers all shared looks of concern. A National Convention was not the kind of place where this thing happened. It was supposed to be a scripted four day infomercial for your party's message and the former President was a Republican to his bones. What could have gotten under his skin?

"When I first started out in the Senate, my mentor was Barry Goldwater. Republicans were the party of the sensible center. We wanted limited government, we believed that people knew how to spend their money better then government did; we believed in individual rights, not collective rights and we believed that testosterone was not a substitute for real foreign policy." President Russell started and there were cheers from the convention. "I sat on the Fulbright Committee that looked into the conduct of the Vietnam War, I led the Republican Party in the Senate for seven years and in my time I've seen a lot of things both tragic and triumphant."

"I saw corruption bring President Nixon to his knees and I saw it bring a good man and a good friend of mine, President Gerald Ford to the Presidency. I sat with my Senate brethren when we learned of the American hostages taken prisoner in Iran and I spoke with President Reagan when they were released. I voted to send the current President and many men and women like him into Kuwait to defeat Saddam Hussein. Over the years I saw the sensible center erode." The former President lamented. "Barry Goldwater and Gerald Ford were men of exceptional character. Good men of good Republican values. Good men who believed money should go to help the people, not feed the bureaucracy and that the best way to help the people was to see to it that they were able to keep as much of their money as possible."

The convention was silent. They sure as hell hadn't been in the mood to receive a lecture on what it was to be a Republican. Even if it was from a former President who had won two mandates. "When I got to the Senate, I was so green. I walked up to one of the older statesman in my party and I said 'Show me a Democrat, show me a Democrat; I want to see the enemy.' And that Senator turned to me, looked me right in the eye and said 'The Democrats aren't the enemy, they're the opposition; the House is the enemy'. We've become so obsessed with partisanship, so determined to beat the other guy that we aren't about ideas any more. We're about competition." You could see the grins on the faces of a few of the moderates and old Reagan guard Republicans in the room but the rhetorical fervour of earlier in the evening had died down.

Back in the Oval Office, the President and his staffers were trying to suppress massive grins. This was like a gift from God. It wouldn't help them in the polls at all but it would stem the typical bump that the Republicans got after the convention. "I can't believe I'm seeing this." Charlie went wide eyed. "This makes no political sense, why the hell would President Russell do this?"

"For the same reason that I would if I saw our party abandoning its ideals after I leave this job either five months or five years from now; because it's the right thing to do." The President leaned forward and watched as his old friend and former boss continued.

"Presidents walk in giant footsteps. Teddy Roosevelt, Abraham Lincoln and Ronald Reagan all sat behind that desk in the White House, they all were forced to make great decisions that affected the very future of America. When a President does something right, it is soon forgotten and when he does something wrong, it is seldom forgotten and always brought up. It takes a man of real moral character to sit behind the desk and do what is right in spite of what is popular. I'm not sure that I ever had that but I tried. I'm not sure that the current President has that, but I think he does. In the end, what makes us all equal is that we are all American. In the end, what makes us all Republican, is no longer clear. So, you can stand here for four days and point your angry fist at the White House and decry its inhabitants for being all that is against your vision of this country. Your very action will show the country what's really wrong with this Party. Gone are the days of Lincoln and Roosevelt and Goldwater and gone is the sensible center from this convention. Good night." With that, President Russell walked off the stage.

There were four very stunned men in the Oval Office, their jaws hanging open. "What the hell was that?" Charlie muttered.

"That was the most impressive thing I've ever seen." Morley answered. "He's going to be a media superstar for the next week. They're going to call him the last honest man in Washington."

"The Post is going to be running 'Have the Republicans lost their conscience?' stories for the next week." Gunny piped up. "I can't believe he just did that."

"Andy Russell was never one for letting the right thing go unsaid." The President just stared at the television blankly.

1331 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Tommy was spending the week at a friend's house in Richmond and Mac had to leave to go to the Court early. The court was convening out of its regular session to hear the case of a man who was to be executed in Texas. Harm expected that the vote would uphold the execution with a majority of one vote; his wife would be in the four justice minority of course. Bax gave him a day of leave before requiring him to come back into work after the trip down to Norfolk the previous day.

Harm got to sleep in for a whole hour, which alone made the day off of work worth it. He poured a bowl of Fruity Pebbles for Sasha and he made himself some oatmeal. His daughter let out a mighty yawn as she walked into the kitchen. "Morning sleepy-head." Harm smiled as his daughter whose droopy eyelids still sagged halfway down over her eyes.

"Morning, Papa." Sasha took a seat at the table. She really was her mother's daughter; she was a carnivore with a big appetite, she could be a bit of a wild child from time to time but she was as bright as a new penny. "Did Uncle Bax give you the day off from work?"

"In a manner of speaking." Harm answered. "Did you want to do anything today, Sasha?"

"Nah, that's okay dad. Since the boys are back in town this week, I'm going over to their house today." Sasha answered with a quick smile while she ate her breakfast. Harm thought it was amazing that Sasha was so calm about heading to a building that it gave most adults panic attacks to be summoned to. He supposed that it had something to do with her age and the fact that she'd been friends with the boys since she was very young and hence, perhaps not as keenly aware of the symbolic significance of the White House as a building or the First Family as an American institution. "What are you going to do today?"

"I guess I could play golf with your Uncle Sturgis." Harm shrugged his shoulders.

"Mom says that Uncle Sturgis is going to be Vice President in a couple of months." Sasha piped up through a mouthful of cereal.

"Well, I don't know about that. He and your Uncle Nate still have to win the election in November." Harm dug into the oatmeal in his bowl.

"Who wouldn't vote for Uncle Nate? He's cool." Sasha replied with a smile. Harm decided that this was probably a bad time to attempt to explain to Sasha the fickle whims of the American electorate. He decided to just grin and rub the top of her head. This action caused her to groan and glare at her father before leaving the table and stomping upstairs, pronouncing that she had to brush her hair again.

Harm took the plates over to the sink and grabbed the cordless phone. He dialled the number for Sturgis' cell and waited for his buddy to pick up. "Hey, Sturgis, it's Harm. How about a little golf today?"

1908 ZULU, THURSDAY

THE WEST WING OF THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

"Three days, the only question I've gotten from most of the press corps is did the White House have any advanced knowledge of what President Russell intended to say at the Republican convention? The only answer I can give them is no, the former President does not clear his public speeches with the White House." Stacy and Gunny were walking toward his office.

"That's the right answer to give. None of us had any idea what the former President was going to say. Morley nearly choked on his vodka when we heard that speech." Gunny settled into his chair. "Any other questions from the press pool?"

"Nothing really big this week. It's the Republican convention week; it was a nice little Washington holiday for us." Stacy had he hands placed firmly on her hips. "It's their news cycle for four days; we just got lucky that certain events conspired to make them go on the defensive with it."

"We've got Admiral Turner out in Nevada and Montana doing spin today, right?" Gunny looked up at the Press Secretary who had in a lot of ways become closer to being another Deputy Chief of Staff over the last few years.

"Yeah, he's in Las Vegas speaking to the Chamber of Commerce tonight and he's headed out to Butte, Montana tomorrow morning where he's going to speak to the Cattleman's Beef Association or something like that." Stacy searched her brain. "We're joining him tomorrow in North Dakota."

"The First Lady is still obsessed with dictating the campaign schedule, huh?" Gunny laughed. "I will say that she has a knack for it. The President's numbers in the plains states have gone up since we started campaigning there more actively and his numbers in South Carolina, Georgia and Tennessee have all gone up since the First Lady started campaigning there actively."

"Then why have our numbers gone down one percent in the polls?" Stacy asked as she took a seat in the office.

"Mostly, we just lost ground in states that we were never going to win anyway. We lost a point in Texas and two in Colorado, though. Those are the ones I'm worried about." Gunny answered. "I'd like to at least hold all the states that we won last time. We should pick up Nevada and Vermont, the only reason that we lost those last time was because they had a native son on the ticket."

"Don't knock native sons, they handed us fifty-five electoral votes last time." Stacy pretended to lecture him. "So, what did you get me for my birthday?"

"Now, what kind of surprise would it be if I told you?" Gunny looked over a quick file while he answered.

"It wouldn't be a surprise, that's kind of the point." She sat on the edge of his desk. "Come on, you have to tell me what it is."

"No, I don't. I'm really not going to if you insist on acting like a child." Gunny grinned as he turned to face his computer screen.

"A child, huh?" She leaned over the desk. "Well, maybe a good spanking's in order." She felt him tense up at that comment. One good turn deserved another after all, but she'd turned him all the way on. He had to remind himself of the serious breach of decorum that would be cited if the White House Chief of Staff were caught spanking the Press Secretary in his office. Unable to think of a real good comeback and suddenly thankful that the lower half of his body was under a large oak desk, he just straightened himself up

"I, uh, I think that would be a bad idea." He nodded in an attempt to regain his composure.

"Yeah, I bet." She shot a seductive look at him before getting to her feet and off the edge of his desk. "I've got to get to work on five o'clock briefing." She turned and headed out of his office grinning. Truth be told, she could use a little cold water herself. Their every conversation now seemed to go from _How's work?_ Right over any of the friendly stuff and into flirting that caught both of them off guard because the undercurrent of that flirting always said the same thing: _I want you…now!_

She headed into the Communications bullpen. There was one thing about the Communications office as opposed to the legislative and political affairs office; it was that only Morley ever seemed to wear a tie around these parts. Gunny had a way of making every nerve ending in her body feel like it had just been hooked up to a generator. She almost thanked God that once they got back on the campaign trail, he'd be here in Washington and she'd be jetting across the country on Air Force One, she didn't want to turn into someone who was unable to put together a coherent sentence; a particularly troubling malady when one is a Press Secretary.

She walked into her office with a new determination, she wouldn't think about him in a sexual way for the rest of the day. She would think about being taken on his desk in his office, or the one in his office on Air Force One, or his bed in the _Ferdinand Magellan,_ or the kitchen table in his apartment, this was going to be tough for her. She saw something on her desk. It was a small package with an envelope and a yellow rose across the top. She opened the card to see that it was from Gunny. She took a quick sniff of the yellow rose before tearing open the wrapping paper. A denim mini skirt and a pair of fishnet stockings fell on to her desk and Stacy looked over the card again

_"You said 'or' not 'and' right? They didn't have nylons, hope the fishnets will do."_ The card read. She smiled. So much for not having any fantasies about him for the rest of the day.

2100 ZULU

U.S SUPREME COURT

WASHINGTON, DC

The nine justices of the Supreme Court convened behind closed doors after having heard the argument presented in the matter of _Texas v. Patton_. It wasn't tough to see how this vote was going to go. The case itself was nothing particular, there were no exigent circumstances which would cause Justice Finnerty to sway his vote and join the court's 'liberal' wing on this one. Was there event a point to having this vote? Mac wondered to herself. Though she had said at her confirmation hearing that she didn't feel apt to dealing with decisions of who should live and who should die. The nine Justices sat at the table.

At the one end sat the Chief Justice and at the other sat Justice Lazio, the senior Associate Justice. The two men were the conservative anchors of the court, intellectual giants in their own right and about to send a man to his death, the juxtaposition was not lost on her. Across the table from herself sat Justices Finnerty, Thompson and DiLorenti. Mac took her seat between Justices Meyer and Hearn.

The Chief looked at each of his colleagues before opening this session. "Being as this is our first session with Justice Rabb as our colleague, I should like to start by welcoming her to the court. Now, let us get down to the business at hand which is whether Clarence Patton's sentence of death should be upheld. Time is of the essence, being as he is to be executed on Monday morning at 12:01am. All those in favour of overturning the conviction?" The Chief Justice scanned the four arms that rose into the air. Mac found herself allied with Justices Sutton, Hearn and Meyer for a four Justice minority. "I guess that means that the conviction is to be upheld. As I said, time is of the essence, so, we'll have to forego some usual matters of procedure and adjourn for the crafting of the opinions in this case." The Chief nodded to Justice Sutton who, being the senior Justice in the dissenting minority, was required to agree before the meeting could be adjourned.

"I concur, Chief." Justice Sutton answered. The meeting was dismissed. The members of the court who had voted to uphold the conviction went to meet in the Chief Justice's chambers while Justice Sutton was faced with the decision of who among his three colleagues would be chosen to write the dissent for this case. He weighed the decision heavily. Part of him desired to write it himself or else hand it off to Sam Meyer for the opinion. There were no special circumstances here; no one was expecting a landmark and extraordinary dissent.

Justice Sutton thought of the two newest Justices to the bench. In her first session, Justice Hearn had voted along with himself and Justice Meyer better then ninety percent of the time. She had voted with him this time as well. Now as the senior Justice of what was to be a frequently dissenting minority, he picked up the task from Justice Stevenson of assigning opinions. He'd learned the trick, the way you persuaded the Junior Justice to vote with you more frequently once they already had, was to assign them to write the opinion. Chief Justice Warren had done it with Justice Brennan. Justice Black with Justice Marshall; Justice Brennan himself had used the same trick with Justice Blackmun and later Justice Stevenson.

Sutton walked into his office, followed in tow by Justice Meyer. The door shut behind them and Dan Sutton looked up at his closest ally on the court. "Sam," he said, "walk down the hall and tell Justice Rabb that she's going to write her first judicial opinion on this bench."

Sam Meyer had sat on the bench for better then a decade, he'd seen the game played with Junior Justices before and recognized his friend's strategy immediately. Justice Rabb's feelings on the Death Penalty were well known and were she to write the dissenting opinion on this one; a riling and sweeping dissent could surely be expected. "Absolutely, Dan." Sam Meyer nodded and headed down the hall.

2409 ZULU

THE CAPITAL GRILLE

WASHINGTON, DC

Gunny led Stacy through the door and over to a table where Morley, Charlie and Kat were waiting. "Happy Birthday." He told her softly and she worked to prevent a feverish pink blush from creeping to her face as she felt his hot breath trickle down her neck.

"I heard from your assistant that you already got a present today." Kat started as they sat down. "What was it?"

"A compliment." Stacy answered cryptically and she saw the beginnings of a grin grow in Gunny's cheeks.


	49. The Gloria Steinem Monument

"Sir, we've got a conference call with Gunny. You're going to need to hear this." Stacy walked into the President's office on Air Force One and pressed down on the button for the speaker-phone. "Gunny, you're on."

"Sir, we just got a call from the Speaker's office. He's calling Congress back into session early." Gunny started. "Before you ask, no, it doesn't make any sense to call a session right now, but he figures that this is a harmless vote and it will only shore up our support with the women's groups."

"What is it, Gunny?" The President was leaning on his arm.

"It's a monument to Gloria Steinem in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco. It was put forth by the Representative from that district whose people voted on having the monument and it passed overwhelmingly. The problem is that they want to put the monument on land that the federal government owns so we have to sell it to the city of San Francisco." Gunny explained. "We expect to get 218 out of 244 Democratic votes on the floor of the House and some of the more moderate and vulnerable Republicans will probably support it. I think political affairs is worried about…"

"They're worried about how it will look if I sign into law a bill that will sell land to the City of San Francisco for the purposes of erecting a monument to a woman who championed second wave feminism and a woman's right to choose." The President interjected scratching his chin. "They think it's going to give Larry Burke a chance to whack me with his American values shtick that he can do a whole news cycle on."

"Yes, sir. They think it might be risking for him. If he comes out on the wrong side of women's issues, he's going to get burned and burned big. Women's groups are going to target any Republican that votes against this. We just have to pray that they leave the Democrats who do, alone." Gunny replied, furiously trying to get information from the House Majority Whip's office.

"The Speaker isn't a moron, he's already taken a straw poll and he's told any members who are inclined to vote against the sale, to stay home and keep campaigning." The President answered. "He's trying to keep up the momentum that the DCCC and DSCC have been building since the convention. He thinks that if he pushes this motion across the House floor, splits a few Republicans away from the pack and takes it into the Senate looking like a bipartisan motion; he can have it on your desk by Friday."

"He's going to have to get it through committee. This is the kind of thing that legislators loving attached pork to. I hope he's got a real bull in committee who can keep the reins on this project." Stacy made herself heard.

"The Speaker thinks so." Gunny answered. "I've talked to Senate Majority Leader McLaren; he thinks we can keep the dog on the leash in the Senate. It's a good political manoeuvre and the Senate Republicans are the most likely to stall it if they get the chance."

"Alright, good work, Gunny." The President brought his chair out of the recline position. "Seriously, fantastic work on this one."

"Thank you, sir." Gunny nodded. "You're in Atlanta today, right?"

"Yeah, then we've got Jacksonville and Charleston before the end of the day." The President answered. "The First Lady is loved down here in the South, Gunny. You should see the crowds."

"81 percent approval in a region tends to do that, sir." Gunny replied with a chuckle. "We're about to head into our labour day weekend swing. We've got you in nine states in four days, think you can handle it?"

"I think I'm up to anything that the campaign trail can throw at me." The President answered. "Why call me on this one, Gunny? It sounds to me like you've got it handled."

"Because I figured you should know who's sponsoring the bill in the Senate." Gunny cracked his knuckles on the other end of the line.

"Who is it?" The President was suddenly alarmed.

"Senator Latham of Michigan." Gunny answered.

"Great, the wife of our hopeful Vice President." Stacy muttered. "The biggest of anomalies just seem drawn to this campaign don't they?"

"Well, what do you expect?" Gunny called through the telephone. "This is Washington politics at the height of election season."

1213 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"Harm! Come here! Read this!" Mac shouted from down in the kitchen as she made the coffee. She had a fresh copy of the Washington Post laid out on the table. She had been sorely tempted to highlight, cut out and frame the article that had been published in that morning's edition but she would be satisfied with having Harm read the original print first. Harm dashed down the stairs in his summer white uniform looking devilishly handsome as always and he walked right over to his wife, wrapping his arms around her midriff and kissing her neck. "Well, good morning to you too, sailor."

"What did you call me down here for, you minx?" Harm slowly rocked the two of them back and forth. Mac laughed, once in a while, Harm got in these amorous moods for no apparent reason other then the lack of stress and the right amount of sleep.

"Well, originally it was to get you to read a certain article in this morning's paper but now I'm kind of interested in what's got you in such a good mood." Mac leaned back against him and kissed his cheek.

"The right combination of sleep, good food and the fact that I have a week of paid leave this week." Harm took a bite out of a whole wheat English muffin. "Now, what is it that you wanted me to read?" Mac pointed over to the paper that was laid out on the table and Harm walked over. He smiled to himself before beginning to read aloud. "Very little is surprising during the summer in Washington, even during an election year. When the Supreme Court reconvened for an emergency session a couple of weeks ago to hear the case of Clarence Patton, very little was expected to be surprising in that hearing as well. The court upheld the execution sentence in a 5-4 ruling with Justice Salvatore Lazio writing the opinion for the majority. What made the first session of the new court so surprising was the debut of its newest member; Justice Sarah Rabb." Harm kissed Mac on the cheek as she came over and roped her arms around his neck.

"Justice Rabb showed a fierce legal mind and an unwillingness to let her first hearing on the nation's highest court intimidate her. Where the Chief Justice and Justice Lazio had both fiercely attacked the arguments made by defence counsel on the behalf of Mr. Patton, Justice Rabb went after the Prosecutor with an unmatched ferocity. She showed herself to be in the mould of so many great Junior Justices before her; one might say in the enviable company of Potter Stewart and Louis Brandeis. Justice Rabb showed her fierce commitment to the belief that the death penalty was a violation of the Eighth Amendment and thus the sentence was unconstitutional on those grounds."

"I was in the zone that day." Mac whispered in her husband's ear.

"You always are when you're in a courtroom, Mac." Harm lightly stroked her forearms and continued reading. "A predictable 5-4 decision brought an unexpected but very welcome result. With Justice Stevenson gone, the decision about choosing who penned the dissenting opinion for the court fell to Justice Sutton, who picked Justice Rabb for the honour. Those of you who remember Justice Rabb's combative confirmation process will remember that both conservative Republicans and liberal Democrats had some worries about what kind of Justice she would become. For liberal Democrats, it would seem that those worries were mollified by her first judicial opinion."

"This is great Mac." Harm replied. "We should have it framed."

"You're damn right we're having it framed." Mac replied. "So, what are you going to do with your week off?"

"I don't know, I suppose I figured that this morning we could wake the kids up and take them to see this really cool place where there mom works." Harm answered.

"Oh, I don't know, Harm. Sasha might get by okay, but Tommy…" Mac started to explain.

"Tommy would probably play with your robe." Harm chuckled. "Come on, Mac. What are you going to do when Sasha's older and it's 'Take Your Daughter to Work Day'?"

"I was hoping I could send her to work with you?" Mac chanced.

"Mac, her mother is an Associate Justice on the United States Supreme Court, unless I get to fly or we're on a sub that gets attacked, I'm pretty sure that you have the cooler job in the eyes of a young girl." Harm answered. "Besides, that court is out of session until October, you're basically going to be doing research with your clerks, right?"

"I suppose." Mac shrugged.

"So, the kids aren't really going to disturb anything. They'll probably just want to look around your office, check out your robe and ask who all the old white guys are in the pictures on the wall." Harm squeezed her tighter in the hug. "Don't make me tickle you, Marine."

"What makes you think that I wouldn't like that?" Mac teased, seductively rubbing her upper thigh between his.

"Oh, you're bad." Harm grinned, trying desperately to keep this from devolving into heavy petting in the kitchen. Something that the kids likely wouldn't understand if they walked in on it, in fact it would likely scar them for life.

"And yet you brought me home to your mother _and_ you married me. If I didn't know better, Harmon Rabb, I'd think that you had a little bit of the bad boy in you." Mac loved playing with him, teasing him just a little bit; knowing that their lives were a little too busy at this hour of the morning to do anything about it.

"I swear, Mac, you'll be the death of me." Harm lightly kissed her lips.

"No, I need you." She kissed him back, her gaze sliding down. "Parts of you anyway."

1756 ZULU

AIR FORCE ONE

EN ROUTE TO JACKSONVILLE, FLORIDA

"Mr. President, could I talk to you for a minute?" Sturgis Turner inquired of his running mate who was meeting with his Chief Political Advisors. The President took a quick break and walked with Admiral Turner into his office. "What can I do for you, Sturgis?"

"I wanted to talk with you about the monument." Sturgis started, being slightly unaccustomed to his place within the structural hierarchy of the campaign mechanism. "I think this is a political landmine."

"It's something of a bouncing Betty, if you'll pardon the inference." The President chuckled. "We've got to hope that we can hit the deck and that it'll spray it's shrapnel on to the other guy. You think we should try and sidestep it for the time being?"

"I think it's just not going to play that well in the south that you signed into law, the sale of land to be use to erect a statue to a woman who…" Sturgis stopped before her got to the word.

"Had an abortion?" The President questioned. "We've named aircraft carriers after FDR, JFK and Eisenhower and they all had affairs. Are we going to be a society that says it's okay to be a man who participates in legal but immoral behaviour because society will condone it; but if you're a woman, we're going to shun you?"

"That's a good point, Mr. President, but I think we need to accept the fact that there are some things about this person's past which aren't going to play particularly well in an election campaign." Sturgis argued. "There are still quite a few people who are staunchly opposed to abortion in this country, Mr. President."

"29 percent according the latest polls; 61 percent support a woman's right to choose and 9 percent are undecided. Since when was it the idea of a democracy to yield to the will of less then thirty percent of the population when more then sixty percent want the exact opposite?" The President questioned. "Sturgis, it's not that I disagree with you; I mean, I do but that's not the point. The point is that I have to sign this bill. It would be hypocritical for me not to. If I can name an aircraft carrier after a philanderer or a destroyer after a drunk, then I can do this. Besides, _Roe v. Wade_ has been the law of the land around here for almost forty years. It's about time that people got used to it."

"That in-your-face attitude might not win you a lot of friends, sir." Sturgis warned.

"I'm about to go out there, in Jacksonville and tell two stories to the crowd. Two stories that tell the people that a leader is someone who will do what is right even if it's unpopular. I'm going to tell them about an Illinois lawyer and a Missouri farmer who did just that. I'm going to tell them that they can expect one thing and on thing only from this administration; that I will do everything in power to make sure that I do what's right." The President leaned forward, he elbows digging into his thighs. "At the end of the day; I'll take Abraham Lincoln and Harry S. Truman over any two other Presidents you can name for me."

"The Illinois lawyer and the Missouri farmer?" Sturgis mused to himself in a low voice. "You spin a good yarn, sir."

"Yeah, it's going to become a pretty nice scarf one of these days." The President grinned. "Was Bobbi busting your chops about the statue?"

"When _isn't _Bobbi busting my chops, sir?" Sturgis grinned and got to his feet along with the President.

"You know what our problem is, Sturgis?" The President gave his running mate a pat on the back as they walked out into the main cabin of Air Force One.

"That we're hen-pecked, sir?" Sturgis chanced as they met up with senior staff.

"No, it's that we both married women who are smarter then we are." The President answered and the two men shared a laugh. Charlie came racing up to them waving a piece of paper in the air.

"Sir…Gallup…latest…poll." Charlie was bent over, gasping for breath. The President took the paper from his Deputy Chief of Staff.

"Damn it!" The President cursed as he lowered himself into a chair

"What is it, sir?" Sturgis asked, still standing.

"Latest numbers from Gallup. Among registered voters it's Ross 52, Burke 47. Among likely voters it's Ross 51, Burke 47." The President shook his head. "Looks like it's a bit of a horse race now."

"Don't worry about it, sir." Sturgis counselled. "You were a Marine; you live for a good fight."

1607 ZULU

U.S SUPREME COURT

WASHINGTON, DC

The Rabb family entered Mac's judicial chambers in the Supreme Court building to a slight feeling of awe. Even for Harm and Sasha who had spent considerable time in the inner most sanctums of the White House over the last few years were impressed with the size and gravitas of Mac's office. "Wow, Mac!" Harm remarked, looking around. The friendly one-upping that he and Mac had engaged in since they met certainly seemed to have turned in her favour on this one. She had three clerks and a private secretary in her outer office. In her private chambers were the official portraits of two of the most influential previous occupiers of the office, Justice Louis Brandeis and William O. Douglas. Brandeis and Douglas weren't Harlan II and Frankfurter but they were alright, and more Mac's speed anyway.

"Mom, this office is really cool." Sasha looked around. She pointed to one of the pictures on the wall. "Who's this guy?"

"That's Justice Louis Brandeis." Mac told her daughter. "He was the first Jewish Supreme Court Justice. He was on the court for twenty years and he's thought to have been one of the best in the history of the court."

"Cool, mom. I guess it's appropriate, you're like the first woman on the court aren't you?" Sasha asked innocently.

"No, I'm actually the third." Mac answered.

"Oh well, I'm sure you'll be as good as old Louie what's-his-name, mom." Sasha walked around the large office.

"Your window's got a nice view, Mac." Harm peaked through the blinds.

"It's not bad." Mac grinned.

"So, are we going to get to see you in your robes, mom?" Tommy asked as he found a perch in the chair behind his mother's desk. Mac giggled slightly at her son's adventurous nature and nodded. She pulled her robe off the rack and stuck each of her arms through the sleeves. She zipped up the front of robe and turned to face her family.

Cheers and applause erupted from the doorway and Mac looked up to find the figures of her colleagues, Justices Meyer and Sutton standing there with big grins on their faces. "Harm, kids, I'd like you to meet two of my new co-workers; Justice Sam Meyer and Justice Dan Sutton."

"Nice to meet you." Harm shook each of the two Justice's hands.

"So, you're the infamous Navy man?" Sam Meyer shook Harm's hand.

"I suppose that's me." Harm couldn't help but smile and yet feel slightly intimidated. These men had reached the pinnacle of their profession, a claim that he had yet to make in his own right.

"I hear you're quite the presence in a courtroom." Justice Sutton shook Harm's hand. "Mac says that you've even beaten her on occasion."

"There's probably an occasion or two that she's forgotten, I'm sure." Harm laughed. "How's she fitting in?"

"She's in the room!" Mac called over her husband's shoulder. "See, the purpose of the nineteenth amendment was to make sure that 'the men' wouldn't talk about women like they weren't there when they in fact were."

"Really? Because I could have sworn that the purpose of the nineteenth amendment was to allow women to vote, Mac?" Harm gently toyed with his wife.

"Mac's fitting in great. In fact if she keeps writing opinions like she did in the Patton case, we're all going to have to be on the watch for our jobs." Justice Meyer joked.

"And who are the young ones? Mac always talks about her family but none of us have ever seen pictures." Justice Sutton crouched down to the kids' eye level.

"Well, this is Sarah Ashley," Mac placed a hand on her daughter's head, "but we just call her Sasha. This is Tommy." Mac put her hand on top of her son's head. "And our son Matt is with his grandparents for the day."

"Are you all proud of your mom?" Sam Meyer asked.

"Her job's pretty sweet." Sasha said looking around the room. "Do all of you guys get offices like this?"

"Her robes are pretty cool, too!" Tommy added enthusiastically. "They make her look like a Superhero!"

"Fighting for truth, justice and the American way in your spare time, Mac?" Harm joked, trying to hide his grin. The two justices laughed freely.

"We just drop by to say hi, Mac. We'll be going now. It was nice to meet all of you." Justice Sutton waved and the two men ducked out of their office.

"Mom," Tommy pulled on his mother's robe, "is everyone in this building that old?"

And this time, Harm couldn't help but laugh.

1905 ZULU

JACKSONVILLE AIRPORT

JACKSONVILLE, FLORIDA

The 'no suits' rule firmly in place, the President took to the podium overlooking a large crowd from Jacksonville and the surrounding area. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top button of his shirt undone. The First Lady was his warm up act, and she was a tough one to follow. In the South, she was very popular because her political mind bent toward the pragmatic in the same way her husband's bent to the ideal. She spoke of equality for women, she spoke of helping working class America and she spoke about opportunity and hope.

When her husband took to the podium, the crowd went silent; waiting for the President to begin his address. "My staff told me to stay on message, they told me to come out here with a lot of platitudes about life in America and about the Shining City on the Hill. They had a really nice speech written all about it. But my two best speechwriters are only two Americans; you all are the real America." The President walked down into the crowd, the Secret Service clearing a path for him. "So, tell me America, what are your biggest concerns? Government needs to be about you. It needs to be about your neighbour and your kids, and their school and your town. This is your government, America; let's make it work for you."

"Mr. President!" One man called; a union cap on his head and a plaid shirt on his shoulders. "I've got a question." The President walked over to him.

"What's your name, friend?" The President asked.

"John, John Ferris, sir." The man answered. "Mr. President, I came here to hear you speak because I don't know who to vote for, sir. I don't and I want to know why I should vote for you, sir."

"What matters to you, John?" The President asked. "You've got a question for me, I know, I can feel it."

"Sir, I just want to know why you don't talk about your faith as much. Faith is a great comfort to me and a lot of people I know. You just don't seem to talk about it." John nodded at the President.

"That's a damn good question." The President told him. "You know, I talk a lot about the separation of church and state, I do. It's partly because, as a Catholic there's something of a stigma around what weight we give to the opinion of the Vatican and what to do when we conflict with that opinion. A great American theologian, a fella by the name of Jim Wallis, said that our leaders must lead every fight with the Constitution in one hand and the Bible in the other. Now, you're right, I've done a good job with the Constitution and I will try hard to remember the Wisdom of Solomon in the book of Proverbs "Trust in the Lord with all your heart; in all things acknowledge him, and he shall direct your way." That was something my Sunday school teacher taught me and my history teacher taught me that in the end, all of our greatest Presidents have, in the end, made the tough decisions from their own love of the Constitution and those sacred trusts which founded our country." The President put a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Thank you, sir." The man shook the hand of the President.

"Does someone else have a question?" The President called into the microphone and a few hands sprang into the air. The President walked over to an older woman who was leaning slightly on a cane and he held the microphone to her mouth. "What's your name, madam?"

"Yvonne Johnson, Mr. President." She answered. "Mr. President, in the last few days we've heard Governor Burke talk a lot about American values and I just wanted your response to that."

"Another good question." The President grinned and turned back up to the stage. "I'm going to head back up to the podium, 'cause I think y'all deserve to hear my answer on this one and look me in the eye when I'm giving it. Do you mind?"

A chorus of 'no' erupted from the crowd and the President bounded back up to the podium. He stood looking out into the crowd. "Governor Burke wants this campaign to be about American values. He talks about abortion and gay marriage and points to our fellow Americans as defiling what is American. We must first never condemn our fellow Americans, _that_ is an American value which the Governor seems to forget. But the Governor has a pretty narrow view of what American values are to begin with. I say that being able to afford to send your kids to college or university or trade school is an American value. Do you agree with me?"

A moderate chorus of "Yes" replied

"I say that tax cuts should benefit working class Americans, not the rich Republican buddies on Wall Street. I think that's an American value, do you agree with me?" The President began to pace the stage.

"Yes!" The cries of the crowd grew louder.

"I say that public education and social security are American values, indeed they are surely are among our greatest values and dearest treasures. Do you agree with me?" The President was whipping the crowd into something of a frenzy.

"Yeah!" The crowd shouted in response to the President.

"Finally, I believe that democracy is an American values, it is the cornerstone of our great republic. That's why I worked with Congressional Democrats to kick corporate lobbyists out of the Halls of the People in Washington. You might want to ask Governor Burke why the Republicans opposed that particular American value!" The President cheered into the microphone and the wave of applause drowned out all else that could be heard.

"That's how we win it." The First Lady whispered to Sturgis as the two of them joined in the applause.

2144 ZULU

LINCOLN MEMORIAL

WASHINGTON, DC

Harm decided that his kids should finally do the tourist things in Washington. After all, they'd lived on the Northern Virginia doorstep to the Nation's Capital for their entire lives without seeing some of the most spectacular monuments. Granted that Sasha, unlike most girls her age, had seen parts of the White House that only members of the First Family ever saw. "Hey dad, did you know that President Lincoln included a lot of his former rivals in his cabinet and that they all occupied top positions?"

"No, Sasha, I didn't know that." Harm looked down at his daughter.

"It was on our test last year in history class." Sasha informed her father. "I got an 'A' on that test, so did Tim. Brad got a B+ but that was only because Tim and I made him study. We practically had to drill the battle of Gettysburg into his head." Harm was suddenly wondering if the private school was perhaps moving a little fast with the curriculum on this one. He could remember being a wee bit older when they had first tried to make the kids learn that. Sasha seemed to be keeping pace with it though; in fact, she was well ahead of most of her classmates according to her teachers.

Tommy was pulling his dad over to the south wall. He tried to read the inscription of the famed Gettysburg address. The seven year old child was still a little shaky with his reading but he seemed to be attempting to read the speech to himself. Harm encouraged his son to give voice to his thought. "Come on, Tommy, read it aloud. You can do it."

"That we here highly…" The child looked up at his father. "Resolve?"

"That's right, son." Harm nodded and put a comforting hand on his son's shoulder.

"That we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain – that this nat-ion…nat-ion?" Tommy examined his father's smiling features. "Did I get that right, dad?"

"Close, son, it's nation. Say it like nay-shun." Harm instructed.

"That this nation, shall have a new birth of freedom – and that…government, right?" Tommy looked up and his dad was nodding. With a large smile on his face the boy continued. "And that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not persh…"

"Perish, Tom." Sasha told her brother. "Think of the fruit and add an 'ish'." Tim decided to start that part over again to get it right this time.

"And that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not _perish_," he put emphasis on that word, "from the earth." The boy was sporting a big smile and he turned to his dad. "Did I do good, dad?"

"You did great, sport." Harm rubbed his son's head. "I think you earned an ice cream cone." Tommy's eyes lit up like firecrackers.

"Hey, dad, do you think that mom will get a monument? Or Uncle Nate?" Sasha asked as they walked down the steps.

"I don't know, Sasha. There have been some awful good Presidents who don't have monuments here in the National Mall." Harm answered. The three of them struck out in a northeast direction from the Lincoln Memorial, Harm decided it was time for a little family meeting.

Clasping the smaller hands of his children in his, the three of them arrived at the Wall, the memorial for the Vietnam War. "Dad, what is this place?" Sasha asked, looking around.

"The memorial to the Vietnam War, honey. I decided it was time for you to meet your grandfather." Harm answered, gazing up at the familiar names.

"But Pop-pop is at home, dad." Tommy looked confused.

"No, Tommy, this is my dad." Harm tried to explain. "Pop-pop is my step-father but a good dad, too. My dad went missing in the war when I was just about your age." They stopped in front of the name of Harm Sr. Harm picked Tommy up under his arms and lifted his son up so he could trace the name of his grandfather.

"Were you sad?" Tommy asked innocently.

"For a long time." Harm nodded. "Your mom helped me not be so sad." Harm looked up at the name engraved into the wall and stood stoically for a second. "Hey Dad, I figured you'd finally want to meet your grandkids."

2450 ZULU

AIR FORCE ONE

EN ROUTE TO SOUTH BEND, INDIANA

MediaDarling has logged on…

MediaDarling says: Hey you

TheChief says: Who's idea was the event in Jacksonville? It's all over the news

MediaDarling says: Hand to God, he did it right on the spot

TheChief says: He should do more things like that one the spot, what's going on right now? How did Charleston go?

MediaDarling says: Charleston went well, the President and the Vice President have some strong support in the African American community here in the south if that was anything to go by. Right now, Charlie is sleeping, Morley and the Vice President are on Air Force Two and headed to Topeka to aid the Democratic Candidate for the Senate, Kat is writing the speech for South Bend and the First Lady is lecturing the President on why he should sign the monument land sale.

TheChief says: It came out of committee this afternoon without any pork on it, which is good.

MediaDarling says: It's in the Senate now?

TheChief says: Being debated and haggled over as we speak.

MediaDarling says: They'll put a rush job on it so everyone can get back out on the trail

TheChief says: Whip count in the Senate says all 59 Democrats and 8 Republicans are going to back the bill. We can shutdown a filibuster.

MediaDarling says: None of us could ever get away with talking to him that way

TheChief says: Well, maybe me, but I still wouldn't try it

MediaDarling says: LOL! Yes, your highness.

TheChief says: Cut it out

MediaDarling says: Anything for your pleasure, your highness ;)

TheChief says: Anything?

MediaDarling says: Your mind is really in the gutter when you log on to this thing

TheChief says: I can't help it, it's attached to my body

MediaDarling says: Yeah, well, talk to you tomorrow?

TheChief says: You bet

MediaDarling has logged off…


	50. Inherit the Wind

_A/N: Sorry for the week long delay……Mardi Gras……Jose Cuervo……hangovers…you get the picture._

It was the week that the kids were to return to school. The White House had become a quick pit-stop for the campaign after events in Ohio, New Jersey, Wisconsin, Minnesota and Iowa. It was early September, less then sixty days from Election Day and everyone was just a little bit on edge. Granted, they were more on edge two weeks ago. The Jacksonville event or the 'Florida Smackdown' as it was being called around the West Wing, had created another surge in the polls for the Democratic campaign; the latest polls read Ross 54, Burke 45

"Sir?" Gunny ventured into the Oval Office. "We got an invitation a couple of weeks ago from the Kennedy Center to attend their benefit for Public Schools tonight."

"What are they doing this year, Gunny?" The President asked as he reviewed the latest reports from the OMB on the upcoming budget round.

"They got a troupe of some pretty big stars together and they're doing a one night only version of _Inherit the Wind_." Gunny double checked the tickets that had been sent over. "Looks pretty good, sir."

"Are they doing the movie script or the play script, Gunny?" The President looked up from the papers, suddenly interested.

"I never thought to ask, Mr. President." Gunny seemed slightly confused. "Are they really all that different?

"Well the movie script is more based on the transcripts from the actual Scopes trial then the play is." The President answered. "Who have they got in all the major roles?"

"They've got Gene Hackman as the Defence lawyer, the one that they based on Darrow. James Garner as the Fundamentalist Prosecutor character." Gunny started to explain.

"You mean Brady?" The President had moved out from behind his desk.

"Yeah, they've got Nathan Lane playing the journalist Hornbeck and that kid from _Smallville _playing Bert Cates. Could be worth going to see, sir?" Gunny settled down on to the couch. "We've only got two days in Washington before we head back out on the campaign trail anyway. Might as well take a night and relax, especially if it's for a good cause."

"How many tickets did they send over?" The President asked, sensing that Gunny had a hidden agenda for wanting to go to the Kennedy Center tonight.

"Enough for senior staff including the First Lady and her Chief of Staff." Gunny answered.

"And you really want a chance to be out of this place by seven o'clock for once, don't you?" The President had already decided to go, the staff had been busting their collective hump campaigning over the last few months, they deserved a night off. "Alright, have your assistant call the First Lady's office and tell them about it. Make sure that Charlie and Morley call out to rent tuxedos and give Stacy and Kat a little time to go out and do some dress shopping."

"Yes, sir." Gunny made a few notes on his clipboard. "Sir, isn't _Inherit the Wind_ a story about the struggle between creationism and evolution curriculum in the public school?"

"Well at its most base level I suppose but it's also about an epic struggle for the right to think what you want without anyone telling you whether or not you can based upon their premise of what's right and wrong. Why do you ask?" The President sunk down into the opposite couch.

"Well, I was just thinking, sir, we made some major headway into the south over the last few weeks, this might give the Christian Right some new ammunition to try and hit you with." Gunny was weary. They were back now where they had been in June and early July; firmly in the driver's seat and cruising toward re-election. They couldn't really afford any slip-ups.

"Gunny, it is my belief that while their leaders maybe largely out of their minds, the people on the Christian Right are basically good people and that a play will be seen as nothing more then a play to them." The President brought his eyes back down to the OMB numbers. "They say that the budget surplus is going to be up to 97 billion dollars for this round, did you see that projection?"

"I did, sir." Gunny answered. "I sent it right over to Treasury and the Press office so that they can work on some language worked up for a briefing in the next few days. We going to use that to eat way at the debt, sir?"

"We're going to try, Gunny. I'm starting to wonder when we became the party of fiscal accountability." The President chuckled and looped the pen through his fingers. "You'll get on that Kennedy Center thing for tonight, right? Because I now have to go out there and tell Secret Service that there's a change in schedule for tonight."

"Yes, sir." Gunny got up from the couch and headed for the door to his office.

1341 ZULU

ST. GREGORY'S

WASHINGTON, DC

Tim and his brothers stood around their lockers along with Jimmy Roberts. The beginning of a new school year always showed such promise for new opportunities and it carried with it the lamentations of a lost summer. Summer was fun though, at least when you were the President's kids. They got to travel on Air Force One, see all the cool parts of the country and they got great seats for baseball games if one of their parents was available to take them. Jack wasn't all that excited about coming back to school; Brad was more excited because the start of the school year meant that the start of hockey season wasn't far off; Tim was excited for any numbers of reasons. First, he actually liked school; learning was something that he enjoyed, even if he wished that they would start school about two hours later in the day. Second, there was the prospect of the upcoming hockey season; they were older now, more experienced then last year and sure to make another run at the national title. Third, and perhaps most important, he got to spend most of the day with his best friend, which was always good.

Speak of the devil; Sasha Rabb picked that minute to come walking up to the boys. Tim was starting to notice just a little bit more about her in the way that his parents said that he might. Well, to be truthful, he was noticing more about the Catholic school-girl outfit then anything. "So, boys, ready for fifth grade?" Sasha looked around at her friends.

"I just want to get to Christmas." Jack had his notebook tucked under his arm.

"I just want to get to hockey try-outs." Brad jumped in. "I don't think I'd even be going to this school if we didn't have a hockey team."

"What about you, Timmy." She leaned casually against the locker, her big doe eyes fixed on his dark brown ones.

"Yeah, Timmy." His brothers goaded. "Tell us."

"It'll be a cake walk, guys. School isn't that hard and besides, we should be able to dominate in hockey this year. I mean, we ruled the roost last year but all our games were pretty close. We might be able to sweep through the league this year." Tim was grinning. "But you're going to have to score more!" Tim punched Brad's shoulder.

"Me?!" Brad protested. "I led the league last year, buddy."

"Are you two going to continue your little tinkling contest or are you done?" Sasha intervened. "We're going to be late for class."

"You worry too much, Sash." Tim advised. "Loosen up a little, you'll have more fun." The five of them walked to class.

"What about you, Jimmy? Are you looking forward to school this year?" Sasha needed a reprieve from the testosterone driven exchanges that the Ross boys tended to engage in.

"I suppose so, I mean we get to do more social sciences this year, which is good but on the other hand, we're supposed to take a language course and I don't know what one to pick." Jimmy scratched his head.

"You could pick Spanish, that way when we go to Mexico for spring break in high school, you can pick up chicks!" Jack smirked from ear to ear.

"Jack!" Tim and Brad protested at the same time.

"Shut up?" Their brother asked.

"You think?" Brad answered sarcastically. "Seriously Jimmy, pick French, it's the language of love and don't listen to Sasha or Tim, they'll tell you to pick Russian." Brad shot a glare over at the two of them who immediately switched to a quick dialogue in Russian to spite his point.

"You're such a buzz-kill, Brad." Tim lectured.

"I am not! You two are just really good at annoying the hell out of me." Brad answered as they walked into the class.

"Mr. Ross!" The teacher called from the front and the three boys stopped.

"Which one?" Brad replied in a sarcastic tone.

"You." She answered and directed him up to the desk. There was a round of guffaws in the class as Brad did the walk of shame up to the teacher's desk. "Listen to me, young man; I don't care who your father is, I will not tolerate bad language in this classroom."

Brad had learned very early in his scholastic career that whenever a teacher had to preface a statement with _'I don't care who your father is'_ what they really meant was: _I know who your father is, I don't like him and I'm doing this make a point_. But, the young man very politely and very wisely kept his composure. "Understood, ma'am." He answered with a forced smile.

"Very good, take your seat." She instructed. Brad turned around and gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes to the rest of the class. A move which inspired a few hushed chuckles from his classmates.

"Getting in trouble already, Brad?" Sasha whispered.

"Just go back to fantasizing about Tim." Brad replied in a whisper and Sasha looked sufficiently stunned.

"That was a little cold, dude." Jimmy told his friend as they prepared for the national anthem.

2341 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

"Inherit the Wind?" Stacy questioned, closing the snap on her purse. "We just end a big fight with the religious right and the President wants to drag out evolution versus creationism?"

"What was it Gunny told us before the campaign started? Don't try to handle him because ultimately, he's going to do what he wants to do." Kat answered. "He's going to do what's right. Do you honestly think that this is about the play and not then fact that every year this charity raises millions for inner city public schools?"

"It's my job to worry about how this is going to play in the press and I can almost guarantee that one of the major news outlets is going to right that this is an attempt by the White House to placate Evangelicals and ally itself with Hollywood instead." Stacy and Kat walked toward where the motorcade was going to be waiting for senior staff. She adjusted her shawl to accommodate the slight nip in the evening September air.

"Yeah well, four years of turning the Democratic Party into the big tent means that we have to appease the center without alienating the left. This play thing could just all be a part of the balancing act." Kat explained. "Or here's a wild thought, just hear me out on this one, he just likes the play."

"You've got one mean case of smart ass today, you know that?" Stacy lectured the Deputy Communications Director.

"You two look fantastic." Morley cheered as the two women entered the reception area which led to where the motorcade was to meet them.

"And you three look very dashing." Stacy remarked in returning the compliment. As a group, the tuxedos seemed to befit both the men and this occasion. The Kennedy Center was always a place that the Presidential entourage seemed to enjoy. The President remarked that he felt something akin to Lincoln enjoying the numerous performances that he saw at Ford's Theater. That was until Charlie reminded him that Lincoln was shot at Ford's Theater, that kind of ruined everything for the President.

"You look gorgeous." Gunny whispered to Stacy as they awaited the President and First Lady. "How are you, Captain?" Gunny looked across the reception area to Bud who was standing there in his mess dress uniform.

"Ah, well, I'm doing fine, Gunny, I suppose." Bud answered hesitantly. "I guess you just never get used to coming to the White House."

"Oh, Bud J. Roberts, I work here; you can loosen up a little." Harriet lectured with a light tone. "It's a building, Bud. An important building, but in the end, that's all it is."

"Your wife is right, Captain." The President appeared in a white tie tuxedo.

"Mr. President!" Bud immediately fixed himself to attention and saluted.

"At ease, Captain." The President chortled. "You're the father one of my sons' closest friends, Bud. You can loosen the discipline a little around me, at least for the evening." The President encouraged. "Are we all set to go, then?"

"Yes, sir." The staff answered.

"See, I love that I have the ability to make five people say the same thing at the same time." The President had the First Lady take him by the arm as they all walked out to the motorcade. "Harriet, Bud, Gunny and Stacy, you're in the car with me. The rest of you are in the trailing car and your seats are separate from ours. We're up in the balcony; I think the three of you are in the orchestra section."

"Honey, I think you're wrong, I think that they've got mezzanine seating." Nicole corrected as she climbed into the car.

"Honey, let me assure you that when it comes to seating arrangements for plays, you're the expert in this family and I'm not going to disagree with a single thing you say." The President got into the car.

"We've only been married for ten years and already you know better then to argue, you're a little a head of schedule." She gave her husband a quick smile. "Gunny, is the latest Gallup poll out today?"

"Sure is, boss lady." Gunny was sitting opposite the President in the limo, with Stacy at his side. "I decided to memorize the information rather then carry it around with me, you want to hear it?"

"If you don't mind." The First Lady answered. In the last few weeks, she'd assumed something of the status of the Campaign Director which meant that along with Charlie and Mitch, there was a third person in the uppermost echelon of this campaign hierarchy.

"We've got 55-44 lead overall, which is up two points. We're at 68 percent with strong leader, 54-45 with shares our values; honest and trustworthy is at 71 percent; and, this last one is particularly interesting, in a new field question 61 percent of respondents want you to get re-elected." Gunny took a deep breath and waited for a response.

"So, six percent of respondents hope I get re-elected but don't plan on voting for me?" The President wasn't the only one confused by that statistic; it seemed to have Bud Roberts scratching his head too.

"Chalk it up to the wonders of democracy, sir?" Gunny questioned.

"I think we're going to have to." Stacy couldn't help but laugh as she joined in the conversation. "Sir, I think you know I'm going to get questions about this play tonight and I just wanted to know what our press strategy should be, campaign wise, about that."

"Is it really so unbelievable that I would want to attend a play with my wife and friends? A play whose proceeds, I might add, are going to a project which benefits inner city public schools? Is that really so farfetched?" The President began to drum his fingers on the panel for the door.

"Sir, if this was literally any other play, you know that there would be no big rush to make a big deal out of it, but it isn't. This is a play that debates one of the most highly charged issues for the religious community in this country and you're not only going to see it; you're going to see it only two weeks after we were able to convince moderate religious voters that we weren't hostile to their values." Stacy rebutted with equal fervour.

"And that's what's wrong with this play? That there's a debate about whether or not creationism and evolution have equal place in the classroom? Shouldn't there be more debate on this issue, not less?" The President asked. "If people care so deeply about this issue isn't talking about it exactly what we _should_ be doing? Unlike the rest of the Democratic Party, I choose to believe that the average religious American does not see science as evil and persistently contrary to their faith, I don't know what the hell the problem is with this Party if you're telling me that we've actually gone that far?"

"Sir, what I meant was…" Stacy attempted to explain.

"Nah, I knew what you meant, I just get frustrated sometimes." The President assured her. "I just don't want to hear about prospective controversies when we get there, alright? I just want to enjoy the play."

2401 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"How did the kids enjoy their first day of school?" Harm asked as he sat down next to his wife at the kitchen table. The two of them were beginning to settle down for the night with a nice cup of coffee and just some pleasant conversation.

"You know Sasha, that girl loves school. I think more or less, she just liked having her friends back. She only got to see them once over the summer break, that had to be rough on her. Tommy likes going to school because Jack Ross told him that he would take care of any bullies." Mac drew idle circles with her finger on the place-mat.

"Jack and Brad are good boys, I'm sure that they'll look out for Tommy to make sure that he doesn't get picked on." Harm mused,

"Harm, you can't dislike Tim just because Sasha has a little thing for him. It's her first crush; it will pass unless you harp on it. Then she's going to date him when the time comes just to prove to you that you can't tell her who she can and can't date." Mac put her hand on top of his. "Besides, Tim's not really a bad kid. He's almost as smart as she is and he's a good athlete, she could do a lot worse."

"Mac, can we please talk about something else?" Harm took a sip from his coffee. "Besides she probably gets it from you."

"I wish!" Mac grinned. "My early crushes were all bad boys. Bet you're surprised."

"Oh, just floored." Harm deadpanned and Mac whacked his playfully across the shoulder.

"Okay, wise guy, if I were to guess, I'd say that all of your first crushes were either cheerleaders or ballerinas." Mac cajoled her husband into a genuine flyboy smile.

"There's nothing wrong with a good ballerina here and there." Harm replied, trying to get a rise out of Mac.

"Harm, just tell me this one thing, did any of them have an I.Q. larger then their slipper size?" Mac retorted, leaving Harm on the defensive.

"Ouch, Mac." Harm pretended to be wounded.

"Hey, Harm, you can get over it. Your mother and I both agree that the smartest thing you've ever done was marry me." Mac put her hand on her husband's shoulder. The two of them shared a laugh.

"Well, I can't disagree with that one, Mac." He kissed her on the forehead. "What's wrong, sweetie, you feel tense?"

"It's nothing." Mac brushed off his concern.

"Mac…" Harm crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"It's nothing, really, it isn't…well, it's not important anyway." Mac turned her eyes away from Harm. That was one thing about being in a marriage with someone who you were afraid to have see you as vulnerable; you had a want to keep your walls up. Mac had seen Harm vulnerable before, so, she felt that it was up to her to be the rock in this marriage.

"Mac, we're not going to go through this again." Harm had decided that this was the time to put his foot down.

"Go through what, Harm?" Mac wasn't exactly sure what he was talking about but she had a pretty good idea.

"You trying to go through everything on your own without help. When people get married, Mac, it's because they can trust each other, it's because they can depend on each other when things get a little rough. It's not just about sex and procreation…even though that part's the most fun." He gave her a small smile. "Come on, what's on your mind?"

"I'm not telling you, you're going to think it's silly." Mac protested.

"I will not." Harm moved behind her and began to rub her shoulders to calm her down. "Now, what is it?"

"You're not playing fair." She moaned and bit her bottom lip. "The court reconvenes in a few weeks; it's going to be my first full term."

"Why is that bothering you?" Harm's hand delicately kneaded her shoulders.

"Because of that damn article in the Post. I came out with a really good opinion on my first go and now it's going to be expected of me all the time, Harm." Mac admitted. "I've spent my entire professional life safely in the shadows, out of the way of scrutiny. You know I've always had problems with the limelight."

"Only because the last time you were in it, you were going up against your old law school professor in a trial and pictures of you in a bikini were plastered all over the news." Harm countered. "You're a good jurist, Mac, and a first rate legal mind. You know that. You've risen to every challenge and you'll rise to this one." He kissed the top of her head and stopped rubbing her shoulders.

"Thanks, Harm." Mac answered, lightly stroking his forearms.

0311 ZULU

PRESIDENTIAL MOTORCADE

EN ROUTE TO THE WHITE HOUSE

"Well, I can see why you like the movie, sir, if it's anywhere near as good as that." Gunny replied as they settled into the car. "Hackman was great as Drummond."

"It's hard for me to see anyone but Spencer Tracy in that role, but I think he pulled it off." The First Lady replied, getting her word in before her husband could get his in.

"I think Nathan Lane stole the show as Hornbeck though." Stacy added her opinion. Bud and Harriet were in the trailing car because Bud and Charlie had started up a conversation in the theatre about Romulan Ale or some kind of Star Trek substance that no one else could quite follow. Morley remarked to the President that if the discussion were to devolve into one of Kirk v. Picard, there could be punches exchanged.

"Sir, we got to go over the campaign schedule for tomorrow." Gunny told the President.

"Do we really have to? It's eleven o'clock, Gunny I want to go to bed so that I don't have to catch up on my sleep while I'm on Air Force One tomorrow." The President answered as he adjusted his position in the seat.

"No worries, sir, I have my Blackberry and I had the schedule sent over during intermission." Gunny drew the little device out of his breast pocket.

"You brought that with you on your night out?" Stacy shook her head with disappointment. "You're turning into a workaholic."

"Yeah, but this thing is addictive and if I had to listen to the President and the Secretary of Commerce discuss the imposition of more fair trade restrictions on East Asian markets, I was going to have to puncture my eardrum. That seemed like a bad idea." Gunny's joke got laughs from Stacy and the First Lady and a quick glare from the President.

"What's the schedule for tomorrow?" The President prodded his Chief of Staff.

"Tomorrow we've got Kentucky, Tennessee and the Carolinas." Gunny answered. "We've got Louisville and Lexington late tomorrow morning; Memphis and Dayton in the afternoon; by late afternoon we'll be in Ashville and we end tomorrow evening in Columbia, South Carolina." Gunny scrolled down the schedule.

"I trust that my wife the Southern rock star is going to be with us tomorrow, then?" The President mused while First Lady hung a self-satisfied smile from her face.

"I can't help if people in the Southern States like me." She nudged her husband with her elbow. "Are you ready to basically camp out in the Southwest for the next six weeks, Gunny?"

"Are you sure it's alright? I mean in terms of strategy doesn't it look a little bit like pandering to have me in the region of the country with the largest Latino population simply because I'm Latino?" Gunny leaned forward in the seat.

"Absolutely it's pandering." Nicole answered showing her habit of being frank. "The media made you an ethnic political superstar, not the Democratic Party. You're an asset to this campaign because you know the Hispanic community better then anyone else involved and that's probably because you're Hispanic. Is there something wrong with making a Hispanic the voice of the Democratic Party for the Hispanic community?"

"I suppose not, ma'am." Gunny answered. "The DNC thinks we need to do some more down-ticket campaigning."

"We've done nothing but down ticket campaign!" Stacy protested. "There are seven competitive Senate races and we've visited each of those states at least twice over the campaign, more times in the case of Colorado, Minnesota, Florida, Nevada and Iowa. There are forty competitive House races and we've been to thirty-three of those districts in the last few months and we're hitting five of the last seven in the next six weeks."

"The DNC is always going to complain that we're not doing enough down ticket campaigning." The President responded. "Just remind them of two things. First, that I've been to Kansas, I state which I am currently losing by close to fifteen points, twice to help our Senate candidate. Second, that four years ago when we won, we brought large Senate and House majorities with us."

"You really like pissing off the DNC, don't you, sir?" Stacy asked with a quick chuckle.

"If they would just get off my back once in a while, I'd feel better. You'd think that having a popular incumbent Democratic President would be enough, but apparently not." The President sighed as the motorcade pulled up to the ellipse. "Alright, what's the start time tomorrow?"

"You'll be getting your wake-up call at 0505, sir." Gunny answered as the Secret Service guided the First Couple into the White House. Stacy and Gunny got out of the limo and walked around. "Walk you to your car?" Gunny chanced.

"Sure." Stacy replied, taking his arm. "Are you really worried about being used as a campaign prop in the southwest?" She asked out of honest concern.

"No, I know that the President would never do that, it's just the thought of speaking for the Democratic Party only four years after having been plucked from obscurity in Quantico is kind of daunting. I never thought I would be the face of the Latin-American community in national politics, I'm not sure I'm up to it." He let out a self deprecating yet doubtful chuckle.

"You are." She stopped walking and looked into his eyes. "Maybe four years ago you weren't; now, you're the man that makes the machinery of the White House run. You're the guy that the President of the United States holds in his highest confidence; you're the guy." The double meaning of those words for her hung like a knife overhead but she didn't care.

"You've got a lot of faith in me, don't you?" He asked with a coy grin.

"Do you think I would have made that deal with you in San Diego last year if I didn't?" She replied.

"No, I suppose not." He answered. "It's going to be a rough last few months. We've got three Presidential debates, one Vice Presidential debate and 538 electoral votes up for grabs."

"You'll get through it." She put a hand on his shoulder as the neared her car. "It'll be good to have you out on the campaign trail again, Charlie and Morley are starting to get boring." She had her keys in her hand. "Just remember, if you need anything, you call me."

"_Anything_?" He said with an obvious flirtatious inference.

"Are we going to start with this again?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest fighting both a smile and the blush that threatened the stone-faced integrity of her cheeks.

"Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?" He chanced, stepping closer to her.

"No, I think you actually missed out on saying that tonight." She was suddenly aware of her heart hammering away in her chest.

"You look absolutely gorgeous." He whispered; God, he wanted nothing more in his moment to just kiss her. Right here, up against her car; would it really be so bad? Considering their proximity to the White House and the fact that they were at this moment very likely under video surveillance, it could be.

"Thank you." She whispered. Come on, it had to be inevitable this time right? The dress, the tuxedo, the play, the moonlight, certainly God couldn't be this cruel twice in one year.

"Goodnight." He gave her a quick hug.

"Goodnight." She resigned herself. Apparently, he could be this cruel twice in a year. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Sweet dreams."

_They certainly will be now_. Gunny thought as he walked away.


	51. Momentum Shift

"Who the hell would have thought that you could control more then one news cycle with the fact that the President went to a play?!" Stacy shouted as she moved back toward the President's office on Air Force One. They were on their way down to Miami for a campaign event and Gunny was going to be meeting them there. Over the last ten days, the RNC had milked that damn play for all it was worth and it had paid off. The race had narrowed considerably in Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Arkansas, Tennessee, the Carolinas and Georgia; in South Carolina, Georgia and Mississippi it was a statistical tie.

"It never ceases to amaze me how willing that man is to whack me with the Bible when it's convenient for him." The President pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm down and focus. "Alright, are we in any danger of losing nationally?"

"No, sir." Stacy answered. "Charlie has a few friends over at DARPA who came up with an election simulator. Basically what it does is, after you punch in some comprehensive polling data; it takes into account a few pre-programmed factors and shows you the likely electoral map."

"Please tell me that he didn't contract this little video game out to DARPA officially." The President gave an exasperated groan.

"No, his friends are just computer nerds, Mr. President." Stacy smiled. "If the election were held today, we'd win all the states that we won last time, plus Vermont and Nevada."

"That's a pretty good win." The President leaned back in his chair.

"Sir, are you considering abandoning the forty-three state strategy?" Mitch Kingston, chairman of the Committee to Re-Elect, had been sitting quietly up until this point.

"It's tempting." The President answered. "Sturgis is barnstorming in the South?"

"He's trying to drive out youth and black turnout." Stacy answered. "It's working from the latest numbers we have."

"Well, if it's working, then I guess we can't just abandon them now." The President considered. "That's how we're going to win this election." He got up out of his chair. "What was the voter turnout rate among persons under 25 in the last election?"

"About 25 percent." Mitch answered.

"We win by making that 40 percent. We're going to target colleges in the South." The President answered. "In the next few weeks, we're going to go to Ole Miss, University of Texas, UNC, Duke, Georgia and University of Tennessee. Mitch, call up a few of our rock star buddies and tell them that we need some help talking to young people and we want to know if they'd be interested."

"Yes, sir." The Campaign Manager got up out of his chair and went right for the phone in the conference room.

"I can't believe my wife didn't think of this. It's exactly what she would do." The President had a smile on his face. "Have the schedulers add a stop at the University of Miami to this trip, alright? And have them book me a stop at Notre Dame some time before November 3rd!"

Indiana was in position to become a swing state. As Burke pushed to further and further galvanize the right, he allowed the President the chance to move in on the middle ground. Stacy walked toward the Press cabin with the news. "I'm hear to announce that we're adding a stop at the University of Miami when we touch down, you'll have a revised itinerary for the rest of the trip the second I get one from scheduling." She announced to the cabin.

"Stacy would you care to comment on something Jeff Hayes, the Republican nominee for Vice President, said today?" The reporter from MSNBC asked.

"Well, being as I have no idea what he said, I'm not sure I could tell you, Doug." Stacy replied with a sarcastic smirk.

"Senator Hayes said, and I quote "I believe Admiral Turner is a good man and there's no doubt that he's served his country honourably in the Navy but I have only two questions and they are questions I know others have asked. Is American ready for a black Vice President and does he have the experience for the job?" Does the White House have any comment, Stacy?" Doug from MSNBC pressed.

"The White House has no comment at this time but I'll be sure to get back to you on that." Stacy answered. She walked back into the conference room where Mitch was still on the phone and Kat was busy writing a speech for Miami. "Hayes did it."

"He did?" Kat looked up from her paper. "He brought it up, all on his own; no one asked him the question?"

"From the phrasing of his answer, I'd say no on asked him." Stacy answered. "Looks like we get to change the news cycle finally."

"Stacy, this is huge. Go get Charlie, tell him to call the Turner half of the campaign and have him use the quote to beat Hayes over the head." They had been wrong a couple of weeks ago about a play being just a play and they had taken two weeks worth of body blows on 'values education'. Now, they had the chance to hit back on race relations; it may have been a bad thing to capitalize on but nothing would galvanize the shift of southern Blacks to the Democratic ticket like a Southern Senator being wishy-washy on race.

1516 ZULU

THE PENTAGON

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Harm and Bax had been called over from the Washington Navy Yard to the Pentagon almost immediately upon arriving into work today. Whatever it was, it was big and it couldn't wait. The two four star Admirals navigated the hallways of the Pentagon with purpose. Then again, even if you were the top brass in the Navy, you still had to answer when the Secretary of Defence called and if A.J Chegwidden was calling, it had to be pretty urgent. With their covers tucked firmly under their arms, they stepped into the Secretary's outer office. "Admirals Baxter and Rabb here to see the Secretary." Bax told A.J's receptionist.

"Mr. Secretary, Admirals Baxter and Rabb here to see you, sir." The squealing high pitch voice squawked into the intercom.

"Send them in, Edith." A.J's firmer, more dictatorial tone replied. Harm knew that tone. When he had been the JAG, that was the kind of tone he used when someone in the Navy had created an international incident that only Harm and Mac could solve. Bax and Harm each allowed themselves a deep breath before stepping into the office.

When they opened the door, they found not only A.J Chegwidden behind his desk rubbing his temples, but Tom Boone was sitting in a chair facing him. "Admirals Baxter and Rabb reporting as ordered, sir." The two men came to attention.

"At ease." The Secretary motioned for the two of them to sit. "Can either of you two tell me what the most dangerous stretch of water in the world was as of three o'clock this morning?"

"Tricky question, sir. On any given day it could be the Suez Canal, the Strait of Hormuz, the Bosporus, the Panama Canal or the Taiwan Strait." Harm answered.

"Give the man a cigar; he just hit the nail on the head." Tom Boone remarked caustically.

"The Taiwan Strait?" Bax asked just to make sure.

"You know, Baxter, sometimes I think you might actually be smarter then you look. Not that that's particularly difficult." Tom shot with his typical terse attitude.

"Easy, Tom." A.J. warned. "At 0214 Eastern Standard time, a Taiwanese drilling ship the _Kin Sanh_, struck what Naval Intelligence experts at COMSUBPAC believe to be a rather large oil deposit in the Northern part of the Taiwan Strait."

"Is it anywhere near the territorial waters of the mainland?" Harm asked, suddenly aware of the gravity of the situation.

"No, it would be firmly in Taiwanese territorial waters." A.J. answered.

"Not that that particularly matters. The current Taiwanese President is increasingly hostile toward the 'One China Policy' and I think that we can safely assume that Beijing isn't going to be particularly happy about him having any oil deposits." Tom Boone cracked his knuckles.

"There is one upside to this whole mess and that is that it should take them about six weeks to confirm whether it's a genuine strike." A.J. informed his subordinates. "They're going to need to make sure that they didn't hit a pipeline, a sunken tanker or just screw with one of the plates. The bad news is that once those six weeks are up, the Taiwanese are going to need to take bidders on who's going to drill and refine the stuff because they don't have the offshore capability. Now, the three most likely customers are us, the Russians and the Germans. Now, the Germans would have a conniption if one of there companies pissed off Beijing so that really just leaves us and the Russians."

"The People's Republic isn't going to like us or Russia helping Taiwan with anything like this." Bax remarked, lifting his ankle up on to his knee.

"Does C.I.A have this information?" Harm asked, willing to forego the politics of the situation for a second.

"I sent a messenger over to Director Webb at seven o'clock this morning and I talked to him about fifteen minutes ago. He's fit to be tied." Secretary got up out of his chair and walked over to his bookcase. "The Director is briefing the President's National Security Advisor; he'll decide whether or not to tell the President."

"I don't see how he can't." Harm shot back. "This is big, I mean at the moment it's a bunch of circumstance and possibility but it has the ability to get really big really quick."

"Yeah, but for the next six weeks, it's all speculation. Once we have something we can confirm, I'm sure he'll take it to the President. Right now, we've got the C.I.A, Navy and the National Security Advisor dealing with it. If it turns, we'll know and we'll tell the President right away. Who's the Submarine force Commander in the Pacific." A.J. Chegwidden ran a hand over his bald head.

"Vice Admiral John Flagler." Harm answered.

"Good man?" Tom Boone questioned.

"One of the best." Harm replied. "He was the Commander of the _Watertown_ when Mac and I had to investigate that collision with the Norwegian fishing trawler and we ended up running into the corpsman with Munchausen's."

"Yes, I remember." Secretary Chegwidden crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I think we've got this under control. Dismissed.

2031 ZULU

AIR FORCE ONE

EN ROUTE TO DALLAS

"Boo-yah!" Gunny cheered as he high-fived the President on the plane. The event in Miami had been a success to say the least. By the time Gunny was finished his part of the event – making comments in both English and Spanish – it seemed as if half the city had turned out to hear the President speak. The two of them really knew how to fire up a crowd. Gunny had started by doing the same thing that he had been doing for the last ten days all over Arizona, New Mexico and Texas; railing about Republican economic policy. When it came time for the President's foreign policy talk, the fervour around the crowd had caught like a wildfire.

"We must promote freedom in places where it is but a candle in the dark night of tyranny. We must provide aid to those who are suffering so that no man need suffer in vain and we must never falter in staring down the scourge of tyranny." The President announced to the cheering crowd. "Because, my fellow Americans, our greatest gift to the world is our hope for a better future for all!"

Now, they were on the plane headed to Texas. Mitch had lined up enough rock stars to make this college tour through the South look like a roving Woodstock. "Who da man?" Gunny questioned as he walked up to Charlie.

"I believe on this one, you and the President are collectively da men, boss." Charlie shook Gunny's hand. "Good job."

"Thanks." Gunny answered. "We're not done though, most of the South is still up for grabs and it would be nice to just landslide this election."

"I know, we're moving our resources. We've padded our leads in Arizona, Nevada and New Mexico. From now on, the majority of the campaigning that you're going to do is going to be in Colorado and Texas. You've got three appearances with Admiral Turner in Mississippi over the next five weeks." Charlie informed him.

"You really think we can win Mississippi?" Gunny asked as they moved toward where senior staff had gathered in.

"Four months ago, I would have told you that you were smoking some serious grass if you asked that question. Latest poll numbers are amazing though. Our voter registration is up all over the South and the only state where the Republicans have an impenetrable lead is Alabama." Charlie and Gunny stepped into the conference room where everyone had settled in for some coffee.

"We need more events like that." Stacy sipped at her coffee.

"We just need more days like this in general." Kat piped up out of the desire to finally be heard. "Sounds like we've got one hell of a trek across the South planned for next month though."

"Not since Sherman marched to the Sea is any trek through the South going to be so remember as ours will be." Mitch answered as he popped the tab on a pop. "And I completely massacred that sentence but I don't care."

There was some general laughter in the room that settled down rather quickly. "Is the DNC still complaining about down ticket races?" Gunny looked up at Mitch and Charlie, anticipating that one of them would have the answer.

"I just talked to the Chairman of the DNC, he says he'd like us to a little more in the competitive districts in North Carolina, Virginia, Texas and California." Kat answered. "I wanted to work them on the language that we're going to be using for our speech to the AFL-CIO in Texas."

"Would you two like to explain to me why Kat is doing your jobs for you?" Gunny crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"We were busy planning the rest of the campaign schedule heading into November 3rd, boss." Charlie offered an explanation. "We've got to do debate camp before Red Mass and before the first debate and we weren't sure where to do it."

"The President has a family cottage on Lake Erie just outside of Erie, Pennsylvania; we can do a little campaigning in Western Ohio, Northern Pennsylvania and Western New York during Debate camp and keep our momentum going in the North." Gunny answered, looking up at the large Dry-Erase electoral map. "Is this what it looks like right now?" Oklahoma, Kansas, Idaho, Alaska, Utah, Wyoming and Alabama were the only states in red; every Southern state except Virginia was white and the rest of the states were blue. "Let's make it so that we can colour in those white states with some blue marker on November 3rd, okay?"

"Yes, sir." The senior staff all nodded with fond smiles.

"Alright, we've got today's event in Texas then one more week before debate camp. In that time, I want us to hammer the Burke and Hayes into the ground on everything that comes across our desk." Gunny seemed to have a new course of adrenaline running through him. "Stacy, I hear that Hayes got the question this morning about Admiral Turner."

"He did." Stacy affirmed.

"Is the Admiral going after him on it?" Mitch jumped in.

"Let's hope, I sent a copy of the quote over to them. MSNBC has picked up the story; so has CNN." Stacy answered. "They're going to be in Omaha tonight and then they're doing a swing through Illinois, Indiana and Ohio tomorrow."

"We're running media campaigns in all the major markets right up until Election Day, we're visiting 43 of the 50 states in the next 43 days and we've got that major swing through the Southern states in the last week before the election. On the last night, we've planned what we're calling Ross-a-palooza; it's a major music show back at national headquarters in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. We managed to book most of the major talent from the convention." Mitch contributed. "Should be a hell of a night."

"We all know that it comes down to the debates, right? If we lose the debates, that's the end of this campaign." Gunny looked around at everyone in the room. "So, let's make sure that we really go all out at debate camp."

0105 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"I'm convinced that Sasha is far too much like you for her own good." Harm groused as he walked into the living room.

"What makes you say that?" Mac was digging into what remained of the pint of Chunky Monkey.

"She can tell time without looking at a clock and when I tell her to go do her homework, she responds to me in Russian before stomping off to her room." Harm chuckled as he threw himself down on the couch. "Here, let me have some of that."

"Harmon Rabb? Putting sweets into his body?" Mac put on a façade of shock as she passed him the ice cream.

"Hey, parenting is hard work." Harm lightly protested as he dug into the ice cream.

"Be careful, Harm. Too much of that stuff and your uniform is going to be just a bit more snug then you'd like it to be." Mac mused as she poked him in the side. "What's going on you seem a little tense, sailor."

"Rough day at work, started early this morning." Harm rolled his neck from side to side.

"Anything you can talk about?" Mac asked as she put her hands on her husband's back as an attempt to soothe him.

"You're going to want to trust me when I tell you that it's classified at the highest levels. There's only two women in the country with the clearance to know what I've got on my mind right now. One's the Secretary of State and the other sleeps with the President." Harm reached for the remote control.

"Sounds like pretty serious stuff." Mac muttered as she cradled against his chest. "You're a little too old to be playing Secret Agent Man, flyboy."

"I don't think I'm going to be running off to save the world on a very participatory level anytime soon, Mac, don't worry. If I have any say it's probably going to be over a mug of coffee and a developing ulcer in the Situation Room." Harm smiled. "I don't think it will come to that, though."

"You're always so sure, and then it does come to that and you end up having to save the day." Mac lightly kissed his neck.

"Hey, it wasn't me last time, it was Bax that got sent in to save the day." Harm pointed out.

"Yeah, you were just the one who wrote up the damn peace accords." Mac rolled her eyes at her husband's modesty. She would never understand why he always hesitated to take credit for the good things he did. "You even got recognized by the Turkish President if I remember correctly."

"I did." Harm felt Mac shift against him. "Are you trying to tell me something will all this rubbing up against me or are you just trying to turn me into a recliner?"

"God, almost ten years and it still takes you forever to pick up on signals." Mac giggled as she saw Harm prepare to respond by tickling her. "Oh, no you don't, Harmon Rabb."

"What, the big bad Supreme Court Justice can't take a little tickling?" Harm taunted as he prepared to chase his wife around the living room. Her attempting to evade his clutches and him…well, attempting to clutch her. Mac decided to run for the stairs but Harm caught her around the waist and hoisted her up into the air. "I've got you now."

"Harm, I am so going to get you back for this." Mac threatened as she turned in her husband's arms. Her legs were wrapped around Harm's waist and her arms were around his neck. "Why, Mr. Rabb, are you coming on to me?"

In an instant his lips were on hers and he was staggering the two of them back over to the couch. Harm fell backwards on to the couch with Mac landing on top of him. "Don't you think that this is a little risky? It's not that late, the kids could come downstairs and catch us." Harm gasped out but Mac just sunk her lips into his neck and jaw-line.

"Ewww, you guys." They heard Sasha complain as she reached the bottom of the stairs, likely headed for the kitchen.

"Too late." Mac whispered to her husband as he dropped her forehead so that it met against his.

0314 ZULU

MAGNOLIA HOTEL DALLAS

DALLAS, TEXAS

"Pizza's here!" Stacy carried the pizzas into the hotel room. "Alright, what have we got for the last night before the election?"

"We've got Springsteen, Bon Jovi, Kanye, John Mellencamp, Green Day, James Taylor, Toby Keith, Barenaked Ladies, Dave Matthews, Foo Fighters, the Wallflowers, Sheryl Crow, John Fogerty and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. Where do we want to hold this thing, I know we were thinking of holding it in Bethlehem on the night before but I think we should hold it across the river in either Alexandria or Richmond." Charlie was wearing his Red Sox jersey and a pair of Yale track pants. He dug into the pepperoni pizza.

"It's not a bad idea." Kat answered. "It looks like we're going to win Virginia anyway, so it won't look like pandering but it still connects us to the South like we've been trying to do for the last three months." She stuck her hands in the pockets of her Notre Dame pullover.

"So, the only question is, Richmond or Alexandria?" Morley took a slice of the Meat Lover's pizza.

"Alexandria's closer to the District, the President has a higher approval rating there." Stacy contributed trying to prevent cheese from dripping on to her Wellesley t-shirt.

"Richmond is the Capital of the old Confederacy though, it helps the campaign achieve its aims with a little more symbolism. Besides, we don't get to go to Richmond all that often." Gunny argued as he lay back on the bed in the hotel room. "It all comes down to logistics doesn't it? Ultimately, scheduling and the DNC are going to tell us which city has the most ideal location and that's where we're going to do it."

"I still think we should find a way to hold it in Richmond, send someone down there to location scout. We're five weeks out, I think we go balls to the wall to make sure that as much goes the way we want it to as humanly possible." Charlie gnawed on the crust for his piece of pizza. "I talked to the Secret Service about debate camp in Erie, Pennsylvania. They've already got everything set up because the President went up there for a few days of fishing back in the second year."

"Alright, we've got Debate Camp set up, should we include the Vice President on this one? He's never campaigned for political office before in his life; maybe he could use the preparation." Gunny questioned, looking over at Stacy who was lying on the other bed.

"I think that the President needs to go up against someone who isn't the First Lady this time." Stacy answered. "If only because he gets frustrated when she beats him on a point."

"Admiral Turner's a former lawyer; he should be a formidable candidate. He knows the issues, which is good. He's got an intimate, almost encyclopaedic knowledge of foreign policy, which is great because he'll be going up against Senator Hayes who has no foreign policy experience." Morley took a drink of Pepsi and pursed his lips.

"But you want him to cut his teeth by going toe to toe with the President in a few rounds of practice debate? I'm not sure that's the best way to build his confidence." Stacy sighed and wanted to turn on the TV.

"Should we let them take turns playing the Republican in the debate?" Kat asked with a slight grin. "I can just see the two of them clamouring to take that role on."

"Yeah." There was a round of chuckling in the room.

"Can you believe we're here already?" Gunny sat up on the bed. "We're at re-election, already. Where the hell did the first term go? Between Istanbul…"

"And education reform," Charlie added.

"And lobbying reform," Morley grunted.

"And gays in the Military," Kat sounded introspective.

"And the shooting. It all seems like one big blur, doesn't it?" She looked around at all of them. "Hell, the last six months since the St. Patrick's Day kick off and the DeValera Dinner seem like someone accidentally sat on the fast forward button."

"I'm willing to bet it was Kat." Charlie joked, to try and lighten the mood a little.

"I've been looking back, I'm not sure that there has ever been a White House staff quite as cohesive as this one has been for this long a period of time. I guess if you work in the most politicized square footage, you're going to get close to the people who keep you sane." Gunny raised his pop can. "To senior staff."

"To senior staff." Stacy joined in next.

"To senior staff." Charlie added his can to the salute.

Morley solemnly raised his can. "To senior staff."

"To senior staff." Kat answered the cheers with her own drink. "What say we all do it again in four years?"

"No thanks!" Gunny tossed a pillow at her.

"Think we can pull it off? Or rather that we have?" Stacy looked around at the eyes in the room. "Charlie, when did you know on the last campaign that the win was going to be big, when was _the_ moment?"

"The night before. We ran that TV spot that involved the President at Gettysburg, I just knew that when we carpet-bagged the airwaves with it that night, it was going to hit big." Charlie answered.

"Have we had that moment yet?" Gunny asked.

"No, but there are five weeks left. It's early." Charlie replied with a smile.

1701 ZULU

ST. GREGORY'S

WASHINGTON, DC

Lunch time in the St. Gregory's was an exercise in organizing social cliques. Sasha took out her lunch as she sat at the table with Jimmy Roberts. The rest of the boys were off talking up the try-outs for the hockey team this year. They'd lost six players from their Cinderella national runner up squad from the previous year. With their jackets that the school had bought to commemorate, they all looked quite a bit more mature then they had last year.

Sasha's friend Rachel decided to come over and sit with Sasha and Jimmy for a second. "Hey, Sash, can you do me a favour?" Rachel whispered.

"What's the favour?" Sasha asked, slightly suspicious of her friend.

"Well, I kind of like Brad and I was wondering if you could tell him and find out if he likes me too." Rachel leaned her elbows on the table.

"No." Sasha replied succinctly.

"Come on, Sash, why not?" Rachel whined.

"Because I've known Bradley Ross my entire life and I know exactly what his reaction is going to be. First, he's going to laugh to himself under his breath, then he's going to sigh and scratch his forehead. After that, he'll try and look like he's thinking hard before asking his brothers what they think. One will tell him to say that he likes you too, the other one will contradict that opinion. Then I'll have to stop a shouting match, I'm not going there." Sasha answered as she took a bite out of her sandwich.

"Sash, not all of us are as lucky as you are. You and Tim get to walk around giving each other puppy eyes, the rest of us need a little help." Rachel protested, still hoping to enlist her friend's help.

"We do not……there are no puppy eyes!" Sasha protested, suddenly feeling scrutinized.

"Yeah, whatever you say, Sash. Please, just do me this one favour?" Rachel decided to try one last time to sway her friend.

"And I suppose if I do this you'll never ask me for another favour, ever again?" Sasha liked having the upper hand in situations like this.

"Right." Rachel nodded emphatically.

"So, what do I do when you ask me for another favour next month?" Sasha asked.

"Sash…" Rachel replied.

"Fine, fine, I'll do your dirty work on this one. But, you owe me." Sasha replied as she saw the boys enter the room.

"So big, thanks, Sash." Rachel got up from the table. The boys walked over and sat down. Jimmy Roberts, having heard the previous conversation was conspicuously silent. Well, to be quite honest, he looked like the cat who swallowed the canary and one of the boys was going to pick up on it, if it wasn't Tim, it would be Brad.

"Hey, Sasha, what was that all about? Normally Rachel doesn't just leave when we sit down." Tim started as he took a bite out of his apple.

"Oh, it was nothing, don't worry." Sasha answered. Jimmy cleared his throat.

"Really? Because it looked pretty important, she seemed to be blushing when we walked up." Jack added to his brother's inquiry.

"Can we just let go of the subject, guys?" Sasha protested as she finished off the juice that her dad had packed. Jimmy cleared his throat a little louder this time.

"Jimmy, are you okay, buddy? Are you choking on something?" Tim looked across the table at his friend who tossed Sasha a knowing glare. Brad caught on to what was going on. He gave Jimmy a pat on the back.

"Alright Sylvester, where's Tweety Bird?" Brad asked with a sarcastic grin.

"Jimmy…" Sasha warned through gritted teeth.

"Rachel likes you, and she wants to know if you like her too." Jimmy blurted out in a rush.

"Really?" Brad's visage now carried that damn smug grin. This, as predicted, evolved into a quick laugh under his breath, which was followed by the sigh and the scratching of the forehead. "What do you guys think?" Brad looked to Tim and Jack, right on schedule.

"I think you go for it." Tim replied quickly. "Not that it means much in fifth grade."

"I think if you go for it, Mom's going to kill you." Jack answered, leaning on the table. "You're too young and you're looking for trouble."

_Let the argument begin_, Sasha thought to herself.


	52. One Last Free Swing

The President's lake house on Lake Erie looked like it had been built just after World War One. It was miles away from anywhere and protected by Secret Service almost as if it were Fort Knox. Every single high ranking member of the Democratic Presidential campaign had gathered in Erie, Pennsylvania and they were hunkered down in the large Presidential cottage. Gunny was running along the beach with music pounding in his ears. They still needed an answer on the God question. Damn it all, the Burke campaign was good at one thing and keeping that question alive was it.

He was trying to run off his frustration, trying to run off the tension and the anticipation that came with having less then thirty days until the fickle whims of the American electorate would determine the course of history, the jobs of everyone back in the lake house and his own political future. Since when did he even think of himself as having a political future? It had to have been recently, maybe just after the shooting, he wasn't sure. He remembered a discussion that he and Stacy had had about TB earlier in the week.

TB wasn't the same thing in politics as it was in the rest of the world. In politics, TB meant True Believerism; and she went to great lengths to point out that everyone who had ever been a part of a political campaign in American History, likely had it at some point. It was a belief in the basic righteousness of your philosophy and in the ability of your candidate as the personification of those values. The media called it 'drinking the Kool-Aid'.

He was pounding the sand harder as he got back to the lake house, the soft malleable beach giving more resistance then did any road or sidewalk normally. He threw himself down on the steps to the back porch of the lake house, the sweat pouring off of his forehead. "You're a tough man to find at six in the morning." Stacy mused, walking outside in her pink bathrobe.

"Where did you look?" He asked.

"Your room, I figured you'd be asleep." She sat down next to him, a cup of tea cradled between her hands.

"Nah, I needed to run off some steam." He took the towel that she handed him and he wiped his face. "Still trying to figure out a way to answer that damn God question that's haunting us like the Ghost of William Jennings Bryan or something."

"The President will figure it out, he's got a little over three weeks and three debates to do it in." She nudged him with her shoulder. "Of anyone, and I mean anyone, on this campaign; you're the one whose shown the greatest commitment and work ethic toward re-election and unlike any of us, you have no experience with this."

"What are you trying to say?" Gunny grinned. "I can feel it, you're building to something."

"I'm proud of you." She couldn't look at him; he fierce pride refused to let him see the blush in her cheeks. "Really, I am."

"I think you guys are being way too hard on yourselves." Gunny tried to explain. "You think just because we've done a lot of good things in the first term that everyone's automatically going to like the President. They're not. Some people are completely insanely committed to certain issues that the President holds a conflicting viewpoint on and they're never going to vote for him simply because of those issues."

"You think we're spending too much time trying to convince Pro-Life, Pro-Death Penalty, anti-Gay voters to vote for us when they never will?" Stacy asked. "Isn't that a bit defeatist?"

"I think it's just realistic. Do you realize how many new Democrats we've registered this time around?" Gunny let out a heavy breath. "Charlie was telling me a story that his political science professor told him in first year. In a room of twenty independents, six are going to vote Democratic all the time, six are going to vote Republican all the time but it's what you do to win the other eight that matters."

"You seem to get smarter and smarter everyday." She finally looked up at him.

"Hey, whoever said you can't teach an old dog new tricks?" He mused as he got to his feet and the two of them walked back into the lake house. "Who do we have the President debating today?"

"Senator Latham." Stacy answered as she finished her tea.

"The Admiral is debating the First Lady?" Gunny tossed her a weary look. "That's not going to shake the Admiral's confidence too much? The First Lady really knows her stuff."

"I told her to bring it down to half strength for today. I thought you'd be more interested in watching the President go toe to toe with Bobbi Latham." Stacy commented.

"I'm most interested in keeping the confidence of our Vice Presidential nominee up because he's going to be going on TV to debate a United States Senator and as much as you and I think he's an idiot, there are people in this country who actually take what he says seriously." Gunny countered as he peeled off his soaked USMC t-shirt. She bit her lip and scolded herself for gazing at his chiselled abs. "Now, I'm going to take a shower and I'll see you downstairs in twenty for debate prep."

"Huh?" She was forced to focus again. "Yeah, uh, see you then."

1405 ZULU

WASHINGTON NAVY YARD

WASHINGTON, DC

"Have you heard anything on the situation in the Taiwan Strait?" Harm asked as he walked into Bax's office.

"All we know so far is that's it's not a pre-existing oil pipeline." Bax answered. "Explorations for previously sunken tankers, other vessels and tectonic plate shift are still expected to take another few weeks."

"You still don't think we should take this to the President?" Harm was starting to feel slightly disappointed in the higher-ups.

"The Secretaries of State and Defence are monitoring the situation; the National Security Advisor, the Director of Central Intelligence and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs have it on their radar and the Navy and CIA are both dealing with it. It's not as if we're leaving a volatile situation unattended, the most executive members of the National Security Council are keeping an eye on it. Any one of them can go to the President at any time and none of them have. All of them outrank me in the hierarchy and the onus is on them to tell the President." Bax set the papers aside.

"That doesn't seem somewhat irresponsible to you? We're talking about something with potential to turn into a major international crisis here! China's not just going to let Taiwan get an oil deposit that they can use to attract massive foreign capital. This is their nightmare scenario with regard to Taiwan and you know it!" Harm accused.

"Goddamn it, Harm!" Bax pounded the desk. "I know that! You know that and you know that I know that and you know that every single person on the National Security Council knows that. What we're doing now is biding time and coming up with strategies to deal with this when we have something to confirm, Harm!"

"You think we can wait that long?" He paced the floor.

"We have to, Harm." Bax was out of his chair. "This is international chess on an unimaginable scale; we've got unforeseen variables ranging from private industry to Naval strength to third, fourth, fifth or even sixth party involvement. This could bring in as many as three of the world's seven declared nuclear powers. We don't so much as sneeze in the wrong direction until we have confirmation as to what that driller hit."

"And until then?" Harm pressed for an answer.

"Until then, you sit at your desk and you go about your business. You take any calls from COMSUBPAC that come in and I'm going to be co-ordinating everything we do through CIA." Bax stood facing the window behind his desk.

"Who's the point man on this thing?" Harm asked raising a hand to his chin.

"I don't understand your question." Bax answered, still not looking his friend in the eye.

"Who's co-ordinating all American efforts until we confirm something? Who's at the top of the decision-making pyramid on this one?" Harm suddenly felt very uneasy about this whole situation once his legal mind kicked in.

"There's no co-ordination, everyone's just managing their own house by creating possible strategies right now and not stepping on anyone else's toes." Bax finally turned around, realizing that the gravity of this situation might require him to actually face his old friend and now harsh critic.

"Because the opinion that we got from the Secretary of Defence was that it could potentially constitute a coup." Bax answered honestly. "Constitutionally, the President is the Commander in Chief and we don't do anything active or outside of our orders until told to by the President. There's nothing to confirm yet and until there is, this is just a bunch of idle speculation. You don't alarm the President of the United States with idle speculation."

"How long are you going to say that this is idle speculation, Bax? You and the Secretary and Boone are all going around sealing the doors and windows so that nothing leaks out. The fact that the press hasn't gotten to it yet is a Godsend but how long can we really cross our fingers and pray to God that the CNN Beijing or Tokyo desk doesn't stumble on to this?" Harm charged.

"Dismissed, Admiral." Bax decided to end the conversation.

"What?" Harm was sure he'd heard that wrong.

"I said you're dismissed, Admiral." Bax repeated.

"Yes, sir." Harm came to attention before turning and leaving the office of one of his oldest friends. It was the most heartbreaking moment of his thirty years in the Navy. He wondered if, years from now, when he wrote his memoirs there would be anything nice he would say about his old friend Ethan Baxter at this moment. The most heartbreaking moment came when he realized that there probably wasn't. All the leadership and good judgement that Annapolis taught; Washington was an immovable force to alter it all.

1917 ZULU

PRESIDENTIAL RETREAT

OUTSIDE ERIE, PENNSYLVANIA

"For God's sake, Nate! Answering questions about God is not that tough or at least is shouldn't be." Nicole threw down the talking points sheet. "You've been going to church every weekend for as long as I've known you, it cannot be that tough for you to talk about God."

"Really? You want to try being the Democratic nominee for President? Fifteen percent of our voters are secular and we're trying to build inroads into the more religious community. I'm trying to tap dance on the head of a pin here, honey. So, no offence, I'd appreciate a little more leeway in trying to get my answer right!" The President, slightly frustrated by this point was feeling his ire rise. Gunny decided to jump in and carefully stop the imminent clash of titanic forces which would surely ensue.

"Alright everyone, that's enough for right now, we'll reconvene in twenty minutes." He announced to break the tension in the room. He walked right over to the President. "You might want to take five and just breathe, sir. Getting combative with people who are trying to help isn't going do anything but send your blood pressure through the roof."

"You're right, Gunny. It's just that damn question!" The President lamented as he leaned on the podium which had been set up for debate prep. "I can come up with plans for healthcare, education, foreign policy, debt reduction, crime prevention but I can't answer a few questions about faith that would fulfill our 43 state strategy." The First Lady came walking over to the two men, her arms crossed and a stern expression on her face. "I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to snap at you."

"No, it's my fault, I instigated it." She waved him off. "The campaign's been getting to all of us. We've had to deal with this damn question again since the play back in September and it's a monster of our own making. Just like Burke and Hayes have to deal with that race gaffe from a couple of weeks ago."

"The thing is, we don't have to deal with this at all. We could give up on it right now and we'd still win. We'd just lose South Carolina, Georgia, Tennessee, Mississippi and probably Texas, Nebraska and South Dakota. This isn't about winning to me any more, it's about uniting the country and showing that the Democrats can be competitive anywhere. That being pro-choice or pro-gay doesn't make you anti-God." The President explained. "It's so far beyond winning at this point."

"You have the answer to this question, you know?" She put her hand on his back. "It's in here." She put her other hand on his chest. "It can't be pre-programmed into you and rehearsed but like all the other great moments of this campaign, it's going to come out of you when you sake off all the handlers and the constraints and you connect with some distant pair of eyes in the audience. I just hope I'm there when it comes out because it's going to be something to see, Nate."

"I'll give you two a couple of minutes to make out like teenagers. I've got to go talk with Charlie and Stacy and make sure that we've got a straight forward answer on the Surgeon General." Gunny grinned and bounded out of the room. He ran into the two people he was looking for at the top of the stairs leading out of the basement.

"They aren't going to kill each other are they? Because that's the last thing that we need right now." Charlie and Stacy were picking at the donuts that had been laid out by the serving staff.

"Nah, they're good. The stress seems to have finally done to them what it was doing to the rest of us six weeks ago." Gunny answered as he set a donut in his teeth. "We need an answer on the Surgeon General." His words were the slightly muffled by the donut.

"The answer is that the Surgeon General wasn't fired, he resigned when it became obvious that he was conflicting too often with the Secretary of Health and Human Services to the point where it became disruptive to the administration of that department." Stacy answered as they all took a seat.

"So, we're just going to go around the fact that the Surgeon General or someone in his office leaked a memo suggesting a federal program to administer condoms in public high schools?" Gunny took a bite from his donut.

"I think we're going to cross our fingers and pray that it never comes up. But barring that, I think the President has the answer down and it should be enough pacify any rancour we might incur from the right or the left." Charlie answered. "I think we need to focus on coming up with an answer to this damn God question though, because it's sure to come up. It's not like we didn't see it coming, the Evangelical movement has been growing for years, this issue was going to raise its head eventually."

"Yeah, the First Lady has an idea on that front, we're just going to let the President wing it." Gunny finished off the snack.

"Wing it? I hate to say it, but that's not really a solution." Charlie replied sarcastically.

"Think about it. Jacksonville, the convention, Miami, Rock the Vote in Texas, all of those moments were unscripted, it was just letting Ross be Ross and it's paid off big. We give him one last free swing at the ball and I'm willing to bet he knocks it out of the park." Gunny answered. "That's how we get all 43, or at least take the lead in all 43."

"It's worth a shot." Stacy answered in support.

2241 ZULU

NAVY YARD GYM

WASHINGTON, DC

Harm was taking out his frustrations on the heavy bag in the gym. He'd been taking swing after swing for the last hour trying to work off some of the tempered rage that had been pounding through his system all day. The bag just kept coming back at him to take more punishment; punishment that he was willing to dole out. What the hell was Bax thinking? Hell, this went beyond Bax, it ultimately landed on the desks of the Secretaries of State and Defence but surely the National Security Advisor and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs bore some blame for this.

Where the hell was the press? Surely China wasn't a country where freedom of the press was acknowledged so that likely explained the lack of coverage from that perspective but Taiwan? Why didn't they have this all over the media? Sticking the needle in the proverbial eye of China as it were? No one outside of the National Security Council circles knew about it in the states and the top brass had them all under orders to just continue business as usual until something could be confirmed. Sure as God made little green apples though, if there was oil in the northern Taiwan Strait, there was going to be hell to pay from quite a few angles; at least two or three were apocalyptic.

"Hey stranger." He heard the familiar voice of his wife walk up behind him.

"How did…" Harm was trying to catch his breath.

"Bax called and told me you were here." She answered. "Said that you were frustrated about something and that talking to me might help."

"I can tell you what has me frustrated." Harm told her, still desperate to work out on the bag.

"Harm, in my experience, you rarely ever let one thing get you this frustrated. Normally, you compound things until it builds up and you can't ignore it any more. If I had a guess, I'd say that's what's happened now." She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Let's go home, you tell me what you can on the ride there." Harm nodded. Luckily enough for them, early October in Virginia wasn't cold enough to force Harm to wear a coat so they could walk out to the car in their gym gear.

Mac fired up the car and the two of them pulled out of the parking lot and headed for home. "I can't tell you a whole lot, Mac." Harm stared down at his hands.

"Like I said, honey, you tell me what you can and I'll try to help you through it." She put a hand on his thigh.

"Bax addressed me as a subordinate today. He's outranked me for eight years and today was the first time he ever addressed me as a subordinate." Harm gazed out the window as Washington zoomed by. "He basically told me not to swing above my weight class with this thing we're dealing with."

"You're worried because you've got to deal with not being the Top Gun among your friends any more, Harm." Mac explained. "It's not difficult to understand. The two friends that you see most around here are the Chief of Naval Operations and the Democratic Nominee for Vice President. You're used to being the shining star, it was a role you played for twenty-six years and now you've got to share the spotlight. Honey, I love you with all my heart and you're normally completely selfless but you always liked being the fair-haired boy."

"You think I just don't like losing the spotlight?" Harm sounded slightly offended.

"I think you believe you were meant for some higher purpose. I think that when you meet a rival, you feel the need to assert yourself and attain that higher purpose and honey, you are meant for a higher purpose. I don't know what's going on with you guys. I don't need to but you need to stop seeing everyone as competition, Harm. Bax isn't trying to crowd you out; judging from both of your demeanours, he's trying to keep the lid on some new fresh hell and I imagine that it's taxing the hell out of him and you." Mac explained as they neared the Potomac and Virginia.

"We've been friends since we were practically kids and we never got angry with each other. We never got angry with each other, we always just talked it out but Mac, for the first time since I've known him, I wanted to hit him and just hit him hard." Harm sounded disappointed in himself.

"Harm, you spent your whole life reaching for the stars. You became a Navy fighter pilot because you followed your dad's star; you're a loving husband and father because you created your own star. Harm, you're greatest man I know, but like all men, you're bounded by your humanity." She drove them into their neighbourhood.

"You always know how to bring me around." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Thank you."

0213 ZULU

PRESIDENTIAL RETREAT

OUTSIDE ERIE, PENNSYLVANIA

"I have a much larger amount of respect for politicians now then I did a year ago." Sturgis mused as the two candidates and senior staff sat out on the back porch of the lake house. "You have to have answers for all the major questions and yet it still feels like free falling off the high dive and not being sure that the pool is full of water."

"Yeah," The President chuckled, "you get used to that feeling."

"I remember on the first campaign; at a joint appearance in Philly," Charlie was sitting in a lawn chair, "we brought Vice President Grier down to Gino's Steaks and he got Cheese Whiz all over his collar." There was a round of laughter at the story.

"Last election cycle I was working on Senator Cleary's campaign in North Carolina." Kat decided to contribute. "The Senator went out to a Marine Air Station and a pilot invited him up for a ride in his F-18. The Senator was woozy and disoriented when he got out of the plane but the Marines were right there and we still won the campaign."

"There's a reason that we do this." The President puffed on his cigar. "There's a reason that every single event we've done in this campaign cycle has been stump speeches. It's because the people don't want to see us at $500 a plate fundraisers and they don't want to see us spending the majority of our time with special interests like NARAL or the AFL-CIO or the NRA. They want us out there talking to them, interacting with them, getting their feedback on what we ought to be doing. Because at the end of the day, this isn't my government, this isn't the Democratic Party's government, it's the People's government."

"Amen, sir." Sturgis pulled his cigar out of his mouth.

"So, that's why we go to Philly and order a cheese steak." Gunny took a sip of scotch from his glass.

"And that's why we do Peach festivals in Georgia and go to Red Sox games in Boston." Morley stared down into his glass.

"It's why we hold midnight rallies in Denver and national conventions in San Antonio." Stacy added as she sat shoulder to shoulder with Gunny.

"It's called Democracy." Nicole walked out on to the porch from inside the house. "You all decided to sit out here and spout Jacksonian theories while drinking scotch and smoking cigars?"

"Hey, debate prep is done and we're celebrating." The President coddled his wife against him. Bobbi walked out a few seconds later and leaned against Sturgis.

"It was a good session today, everyone. I think we're ready." Bobbi kissed her husband on the cheek.

"I heard about the last day event that you guys were planning in Richmond." The First Lady started.

"Or Alexandria." Gunny pointed out.

"I think we should make it a Habitat for Humanity concert, too. I've talked to them, they're willing to do it in conjunction with the Ross/Turner 2012 Campaign Committee." Nicole turned her head to face the staff. "And we should hold it in Richmond. Don't sell tickets, donations only."

"You never cease to amaze us, ma'am." Stacy grinned, finishing off her scotch. "I'll never understand how you guys can drink this."

"Don't ask, Stacy." Bobbi intervened. "I'm on my second term in the Senate and I still don't get it."

"It's a little bit of relaxation. We're twenty-four days out from election day, this is the last bit or respite we may get." Sturgis explained. "I've got two more trips to Kansas in the next twenty-four days to stump for our Senatorial candidate. Have you ever seen a race that tight?"

"No, even if we lose the popular vote in Kansas by twenty percent, winning that Senate seat would be a huge symbolic win for us." Morley refilled his glass.

"I've never seen anything like this. I never thought I would see the day when the Democrats are better organized than the Republicans." Kat grinned and reached for a cigar. "It's a damn good day to be a liberal."

"Hear, hear." Gunny concluded. "Hear, hear."

1339 ZULU

ST. GREGORY'S

WASHINGTON, DC

"How did the first round of hockey tryouts go?" Sasha asked as she caught up to Tim's stride in the hallway.

"We got some good young talent showing up this year." Tim began to explain, his hair a little damp and ruffled from sweat. "The problem is that they're young and they're not big guys. We're going to need some big guys on defence and on our fourth line if we want to get back to the State finals this year."

"You can't just rely on speed again? It worked for you last year." Sasha asked, trying to maintain some semblance of actual interest in what he was saying.

"They're going to be expecting it from us." Tim answered. "We need to come at them with more then Brad's speed and skill and the fact that I can whack a puck at a high speed."

"Why do you always give Brad a little more credit then you give yourself? The two of you do your best work together, not separate." Sasha stopped walking and Tim looked at her.

"What's up? You seem a little on edge." Tim reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "It's just a game, it's a team sport. None of us are any good alone, that's why there are five other guys on the ice to help us out."

"It's nothing." She shook her head. "So, is you brother Rachel's 'boyfriend' or not?" She changed the subject.

"I don't know, he's still thinking. Or he forgot, I'm not sure." Tim laughed.

"Seems like something he'd do." Sasha laughed nervously. "How are you doing in Math class, seems like it's getting harder this year."

"Nothing I can't handle." Tim brought out that damn grin that made her look around for something to grab on to in order to hold herself up. "Besides, if it got rough, I'd have you to help me out, right?"

"Two peas in a pod." She playfully punched him in the shoulder in an attempt to regain some of her composure. "Tim, would you…I mean would you ever tell a girl that you liked her? You know, like Rachel's trying to do with Brad, only in reverse I guess."

"I'm not sure that I'd have the guts." Tim laughed.

"I find it hard to believe you're scared of anything." Sasha mused as they walked into class.

"Everyone's a little afraid of something, when there's something lose anyway." Tim answered. "That almost sounded mature."

"Yeah, almost." She laughed nervously again.

"At least I don't have to worry about losing you." He softened his tone, holding her gaze.

"Nah, you're stuck with me." She smiled. "Guess we have to make the best of it."

"We get along pretty good, can't be that hard." Tim set his books down on his desk. "It's nice to have a best friend like you."

"Back at you." Sasha replied with a fond smile of her own.

2417 ZULU

DUKE UNIVERSITY – FIRST PRESIDENTIAL DEBATE

DURHAM, NORTH CAROLINA

"Mr. President, one issue that has come up again and again in your campaign concerns the role of God in the government of the United States. How do you see the interaction between religion and government in the future of America?" The Mediator asked.

"You know, I've been thinking a lot about this question over the last three months. I've tried to come up with an answer so I went to the roots of the question. I read the Gospel of John and I came away with more questions then answers. So I read the _Second Treatise of Government_ by John Locke which sets the foundation for the kind of republic that our founders would later create, but still I was left with only questions. Then I remembered a couple of years ago, my wife gave me a copy of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence it was a very old leather-bound edition. So, I read through that and I got an answer. The Founders had the same problem I had; if we are to be a nation of all persons, then we must be a nation of all religions including no religion. The Bible is a great book and I know that it has shaped the way I examine key moral questions and it has shaped my relationship with God and my fellow man. But it is the Constitution which forms the basis of our more perfect union. One can make room for both and do so proudly. Religion is sacred and personal but the Constitution is the one parchment upon which our government is based and it is the article from which me must take our lead and it states very plainly that Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion or limiting the free exercise thereof." The President answered and took a deep breath. "They're supposed to unite us as they do in the pledge of allegiance where we are one nation under God and in the oath of office where the President swears to uphold the Constitution; he does so with his hand on the Bible. We must have both and we must have peace between the two."


	53. A Night, I Remember Oh So Well

"The event here's been great!" Gunny shouted into the phone. "I never thought we'd get thirty thousand people in Kansas. I guess I was wrong." The DNC chair was more then slightly exasperated that the President was going to Kansas – a state he had no chance of winning – inside the last few days before the election.

"Gunny, you've got to get him back up for a swing through Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania and West Virginia. We need to keep up our momentum in the Rust Belt and keep him next to blue collar voters before he goes into the concert tomorrow evening." The Chairman of the DNC protested. "He needs to come back to the left a little and make sure to really drive out the base on Election Day."

"Listen, Terry, the latest Zogby poll has us up 55 to 43 and our own internal tracking makes it 56 to 42. We've got everyone sufficiently mobilized for Tuesday. Young voter registration is through the roof, our college tour in the South drew some of the biggest crowd any Democrat has seen in the South since Harry Truman and the President killed in all three debates." Gunny argued. "We've already got him booked in those states tomorrow; we're going to sleep on the plane. Terry, I've got to go, we're wrapping up here and headed out to the motorcade."

"Who was that?" Stacy asked as they headed out to the car.

"Chairman of the DNC, he's concerned that we're neglecting the big Midwestern states. I don't get what his problem is; we just finished an Iowa, Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky swing last week." Gunny slung his travel bag over his shoulder.

"Terry Barnes is just on edge because in about thirty-six hours the polls open on the east coast and he's got to preside over about forty close house races and seven close Senate races. He's worried that the stress might be getting to him." Stacy laughed as they climbed into the motorcade. "We meet up with Admiral Turner in Fort Wayne tomorrow, and then we're off to Toledo, Pittsburgh and Summersville before heading into Richmond for the last few sets of the concert tomorrow."

"Then we go to Bethlehem to vote early tomorrow morning and you've got a breakfast with the local AARP before we head back to the White House." Charlie climbed into the car with them. "The Senate races are going to be some of the most exciting news of the election cycle."

"Our race isn't over yet." Stacy shut the door behind them. "Advance has the events cleared for tomorrow in Fort Wayne, Toledo and Pittsburgh. They're working on making sure we're clear in Summersville tomorrow."

"We're only doing Press Q&A in Fort Wayne and Summersville, that's it tomorrow. I want the President in Richmond no later then eight o'clock tomorrow evening." Gunny directed. "This is the last day of this campaign; we're going to make it count. I think Mitch and Charlie are going to have a collector's set of ulcers by the time the polls close in California on Tuesday night."

"Hey!" Charlie protested drowsily. "I have not been that stressed out in this campaign."

"Charlie, for the last two weeks you've been on your last frayed nerve ending. After the election, I'm sending you out to Hawaii for a week to thank state party chairs and have a damn vacation." Gunny shook his head. "You ran a hell of a campaign; you, Mitch and the First Lady should get most of the credit for whatever the outcome is Tuesday night."

"Boss, if we win this Tuesday and it's anywhere near what the guys on TV are predicting then we owe it all to our all-star line-up. We never would have made the big play in the southwest if it weren't for you. We owe our success on the plains to the First Lady who must have eaten corn on the cob with every single person in Iowa, Nebraska, the Dakotas and Montana. She and Admiral Turner also helped us drive out the Southern Strategy too. Then of course there's the Boss, without him there wouldn't have been much of anything." Charlie let his head roll against the headrest. "What are you most looking forward to when this is over?"

"A long hot bath and a bed that does feel like two pieces of cardboard and old horse hide." Stacy smiled. "After that, maybe a nice pedicure."

"Sex." Gunny answered. "I'm running a dry streak that would make the Sahara look like Venice Beach. I think I just need to pick up an attractive woman and forget the world for a night…and probably well into the next morning."

"That confident in your own stamina?" Charlie chortled.

"No, it's just been _that_ long." Gunny grinned. The whole time his fantasies were playing out around the blonde sitting next to him. Her long tanned legs wrapped tightly around his waist as they stumbled back on to a bed; those kinds of fantasies. They were the kind of thoughts that brought a smile to his face that he didn't really care to explain to anyone.

1523 ZULU

ST. GREGORY'S

WASHINGTON, DC

Brad and Jack were organizing the last recess football game of the fall. This was D.C. after all, and with the Redskins having a great season, the kids were caught up in the fervour of success. Tim decided to sit out this game and he sat with Sasha on the grass. "Why don't you play?" Sasha nudged his shoulder.

"Because I know Jack and Brad, if I play, one of them is going to tackle me and that's going to hurt." Tim stared at the grass. "I'm not as big as them, it makes no sense to try and play in their league."

"You're not exactly a small fry." Sasha pointed out.

"No, but they're not playing with guys our age, they're playing with the older kids and among them I would be." Tim pulled up a few blades of grass. "Besides, I get to sit out here and talk to you."

"Oh yeah, I'm really going to believe that you'd rather do this than play football." Sasha rolled her eyes. "You can be a bit of a wimp sometimes, you know that?"

"Hey, I'm your friend cut me a little slack." Tim protested, tossing the blades of grass at her.

"Don't get snippy with me, Timmy. I may be smaller then you but I'm still willing to bet that I could kick your butt." She lightly gave him a push. "You need to learn how to have fun, Timmy."

"You need to learn to leave well enough alone." Tim retorted. "I don't really like football anyway. The Secret Service goes nuts when Jack and Brad play because they're afraid they might get hurt."

"Trying to make you like the boys in the bubble?" Sasha giggled.

"Nah, my dad's just really loud and unpleasant when he shouts and he's like a Lion when it comes to his kids. I think that they want to keep Dad as happy as possible." Tim smiled. "They weren't thrilled when we started playing hockey. They thought that it would be risky."

"Oh, your dad must have loved that." Sasha mused sarcastically.

"Yeah, he told them that we were young and we were going to get a few scrapes and bruises. As long as no one kidnapped us or shot at us, they were doing their jobs just fine." The two of them shared a laugh.

"Would you look at Rachel over there, I swear, I think she just likes looking at your brother for long periods of time." Sasha laughed with a slight edge to her voice.

"Brad's a trophy, that's not a surprise. Shiny but dense describes them both." Tim chuckled. "Mom and Dad both had concerns about Brad having a 'girlfriend' at this age."

"No, duh. If I told my dad I had a 'boyfriend', he'd probably kill the boy without even thinking about it." Sasha laughed nervously.

"I pity you for that. It doesn't get better. I remember when Helene brought her first boyfriend home; Dad was in the middle of a meeting with the Joint Chiefs. He waved the boy into the Oval Office. Now, I think he'd already be scared about meeting the President at the White House but all the top Generals and Admirals too? That was too much. The poor guy spent six minutes throwing up after that meeting." Tim was laughing boisterously.

"Your dad is evil!" Sasha looked shocked.

"I know." Tim was still laughing. "Gunny says that in the event of nuclear war, all of our allies are glad that dad is on our side. Mom says it'll be easier for us, at least as far as dad goes, I'm worried about Mom when it comes to dealing with any future girlfriends that Brad or Jack or I might have."

"Nah, you're mom's a sweetheart. She's the First Lady and she _still_ bakes cookies when a bunch of us go over to your house, how cool is that?" Sasha watched Jack run for a touchdown out on the field.

"Yeah, well that's just because you don't have to live with her. Mom's like a drill sergeant sometimes. The White House has all these cool Butlers and maids and stuff and mom still makes us clean our rooms before we go to school in the morning." Tim lay back on the grass.

"Oh you poor baby, life must be so hard for you." Sasha mocked. "You really need to end this pity parade, Timmy. You're smart, you're funny, you're one of the best hockey players in the country in your age group and you're also not incredibly unfortunate looking."

"Not incredibly unfortunate looking? Thanks, Sash." Tim grinned that same stupid grin that always made her feel a little woozy. "About how far is not incredibly unfortunate looking from being cute."

"Miles and miles, Timmy." Sasha grinned sheepishly. "Are you going to the concert tonight? I hear that they've got some pretty cool bands playing. Some old guys, too, but I imagine you'll get to see the cool bands too."

"Well you could go with me. I mean if I go, the only person I'll get to talk to is Jack since Dad told Brad that he could bring Rachel. The Secret Service doesn't like to get distracted by talking to me." Tim refused to look her in the eye.

"I'll talk to my dad and see." Sasha replied.

1603 ZULU

AIR FORCE ONE

EN ROUTE TO TOLEDO, OHIO

"Where the hell are Morley and Charlie?!" Kat screeched as she walked into Gunny's office on Air Force One.

"Good morning, Kat, I think that the event in Fort Wayne went well too." Gunny asked, trying to remind her in a somewhat subtle way that she was addressing her boss.

"Sorry, boss but we've got three events left today and I can't help but notice that I can't find the White House Communications Director or the Deputy Chief of Staff anywhere on the plane." Kat had her hands fixed firmly on her hips.

"I sent them on ahead to Richmond to make sure that everything was set for when the President shows up at the concert tonight." Gunny stopped typing on his laptop. "What's the problem? Pittsburgh is just going to be another version of our Anti-outsourcing stump speech and Summerville is going to be our Crackdown on Crime stump speech. Toledo's a photo op at Tony Packo's Café with the Governor where the President gets to show off his natural ability to play retail politics."

"I think we need softer language for the crime speech in Summersville." Kat explained.

"Softer language?" Gunny almost choked on air.

"Yeah, like it or not, we haven't been feeling as much love from the base as we should be. Trying to reach out to values voters has kind of spread us a little thin and we need to toss the left a bone on something. I don't think that they particularly care what either so long as it's something." Kat explained, beginning to babble somewhat near the end.

"Why do you need Morley for this? You're an excellent writer." Gunny seemed confused.

"I'm the moderate, Morley's the raging lefty. If we need someone to talk to the base, it's his words that we should use. Charlie's the policy guy, he knows what we talk about and where we talk about it." Kat put a hand on her forehead, she was slightly exasperated.

"Well, we aren't going to soften our crime language in West Virginia, find something that we can talk to the base about in Ohio." Gunny instructed. "We'll let him answer a quick question from local media on something that's a big issue with the base, something like school vouchers or social security."

"Yeah, it'll tether us to the base a little more then crime language anyway." Kat nodded and headed for the door to the office. "You're pretty good at this."

"I've had four years of practice." Gunny answered. Kat left the office just as Stacy was walking in. "Morning, blondie."

"Is that my new nickname?" Stacy settled into the chair across from him. "The concert starts in about a half an hour; they've got porta-potties set up, a bunch of local restaurants have set up temporary venues on the grounds and Barenaked Ladies are the first band up on the stage. By the time we get there around eight o'clock, Bon Jovi will be up on stage."

"And they're publicizing that this isn't a partisan event, we're not turning Republicans away at the gate, right?" Gunny double-checked.

"Well, that's what we're telling the press and of course that's what we're doing but I'm not sure that any of them believe me when I tell them that." Stacy crossed her legs, drawing Gunny's attention for a second.

"Why is it so hard to believe?" He asked, his eyes still stealing glances downward.

"Because it's election season and everything that any campaign does during election season is automatically a partisan pep rally." Stacy answered, finally realizing what was distracting him. "Do you need a minute?"

"Huh? What?" Gunny realized he'd been caught. "No, I'm good."

"Really? Because I can just sit here for a minute and let you ogle me like a piece of meat in the butcher's window." She was hiding a superior grin.

"Well, now you've taken all the fun out of it." He smiled at her. "Polls open in a little less then twenty-hours on the East Coast."

"I know, I already voted absentee. How about you?" She was a little weary of the subject change.

"Yup, I made sure that everyone who needed to on staff did as well." Gunny let out a heavy breath. "Seems we're all working up to Richmond tonight."

"They're calling it Woodstock for a new generation." Stacy leaned forward. "Let's hope they're right."

1738 ZULU

THE PENTAGON

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

The committee of conspirators, as Harm would come to call them in angrier moments, was meeting in the office of Secretary Chegwidden. It was a meeting that needed to be stealthily arranged; the Secretary of State had been in A.J's office at 0800 this morning and one by one, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the National Security Advisor, the Director of Central Intelligence, Tom Boone, Bax and even Harm himself had made their way into the office by noon.

"Alright, well now that they know it's not a tanker or a pipeline, we're sticking all our hopes on the fact that they just shook something up in the crust. That's only going to take three days to confirm or deny though." A.J. had his arms crossed in front of his chest. "If that."

"Why?" Bax inquired.

"Because all they have to do is check for oil contamination. Labs do a forty-eight hour turnaround." Secretary of State Andrea Wallace answered. "We have a larger problem, and that's Dynecorp."

"Dynecorp?" Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Harkin Fitzpatrick asked. He was the elder statesman in the room. Along with having once been the Chief of Staff to the President's father.

"When we admitted Russia into NATO last year, Dynecorp was an oil excavation firm that was just large enough to merge with a large Russian firm." Andrea Wallace began to explain. "They have one of the largest drilling fleets in the Pacific and the rumour I'm hearing at Foggy Bottom is that they've got a preliminary agreement with the government of Taiwan to tap their new oil reserve if it's discovered that that is what's in the Northern Taiwan Strait."

"Great shades of Elvis." Mike Bradley, the National Security Advisor exclaimed under his breath. "They've got Russian and American employees, which may be a great international peace symbol but if the Chinese get testy with this Taiwanese project, they could blow a gasket and go after whatever company is drilling in the Strait."

"Which would mean killing Americans and Russians." Harm seemed to draw the conclusion instantaneously. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph; I think we need to tell the President now."

"Clayton?" Secretary Chegwidden turned his attention to the one person whose input seemed necessary but lacking.

"I've known the President for better then twenty years, I don't know how we don't tell him. American lives are at stake, Russian lives are at stake, so are our relations with China and we have two American subs monitoring the situation under deep cover. I think we need to tell him, A.J." Clayton Webb, even in a tense situation, could be sure not to wrinkle his three piece suit.

"Alright, I don't think we need to tell the President yet. I think we have forty-eight hours before anything becomes imminent." A.J. looked around the room. "But I'm willing to take a vote on that. Who thinks we should wait forty-eight hours?" Immediately, the hands of A.J., Tom, Andrea and Mike Bradley went into the air. "And who thinks we wait forty-eight hours?" This was followed by Harm, Clayton Webb and Mike Bradley all raising their hands. Bax was notably pensive, deciding to keep his arms crossed in front of his chest. "Admiral Baxter?"

"A.J, we should have told the President six weeks ago when this mess started and you know that. We need to let him know, hell, we need to let the world know what the hell is going on in Taiwan, especially since the Taiwanese and the Chinese aren't letting the media report anything. Jesus H. Christ, I'll be surprised if he doesn't hang us all for letting it go on this long." Bax answered; Harm thought this was an appropriate, albeit convenient time for hi friend to discover his conscience. "We all know better, we all know that in this situation, we're wielding or rather refusing to wield far more power then is granted to us. We should all be ashamed of ourselves for such egregious misconduct. We have done the unthinkable, we've betrayed our oath. I pray only that the President doesn't make this public knowledge."

"Alright, in spite of Admiral Baxter's melodrama," Secretary Chegwidden answered the injurious call of his subordinate, "we remain tied."

"Not quite, Mr. Secretary." The voice of Vice Admiral John Flagler boomed out of the speaker-phone. John had been made the Commander of Submarine Forces Pacific or COMSUBPAC by the President a couple of years previous. "This information needs to be reported to the President at the earliest possible convenience, I'm not leaving any subs out there without orders. I'd sooner resign."

"Well, I suppose that's it." A.J. pinched the bridge of his nose. "Which one of you has the next meeting with the President?"

"I do." Mike Bradley answered. "I've got a meeting with him at 1100 on Election Day. I'll tell him then." The National Security Advisor answered. The meeting generally dismissed. Harm took a deep breath and remembered a line from an old John Wayne movie; the most crucial day of our times.

2407 ZULU

HABITAT FOR HUMANITY CONCERT

RICHMOND, VIRGINIA

"Oh my God! This is so cool!" Sasha beamed as she stood backstage at the concert. "Do you guys get to do this a lot?" Sasha looked at Tim who was smiling too.

"No, Jon Bon Jovi doesn't just drop by the House with Dave Grohl whenever he feels like it." Tim was trying to hide his own euphoria at seeing so many rock stars. "Though I doubt dad wouldn't accept an appointment, Bono has been by a couple of times."

"Seriously, this is really cool, thanks for inviting me!" Sasha shouted over the clang of electric guitars on stage. She leaned up and kissed Tim on the cheek. "You did really good this time."

He rubbed his cheek immediately after the kiss. "Thanks." He beamed a quick grin at her. Sasha backed up out of reflex, she didn't want to feel so easily ensnared by the charm of a boy she had known her whole life. Especially before that boy was aware that he possessed any real charm. "Have, uh, have you seen Brad or Jack any where?"

"No, they did seem to disappear when we got here." Sasha looked around.

"I'm sure Secret Service has a watch on them." Tim searched for the familiar faces of Jack and Brad's agents.

"How do you get used to it?" Sasha asked.

"Get used to what?" Tim looked down at her slightly shorter form.

"Having a group of people watch your every move; making sure that you don't get in any trouble. I mean, that's something that most kids don't have." She looked up at him with a kind of wonder.

"It's not that bad." Tim explained. "Secret Service is pretty cool once you get used to it." Tim searched the backstage area. "Dad's supposed to be showing up soon."

"Don't you do anything without waiting for the Prez to tell you that it's okay?" Sasha put her hands on his shoulders. "You're dad's a nice guy but Tim, you've got to learn how to have fun."

"You keep telling me that." He grinned again, weakening her knees even further. "Why do you put up with me?"

"Maybe I think you're worth it." She smiled. "Somewhere under there, there's a party animal and I bet it's going to be funny when he comes out."

"It seems to me you're living in a dream world." Tim looked away from her out on to the stage.

"Yeah, well Mom told me that dreams have a way of becoming reality." Sasha countered. "Kind of like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz."

"I thought reality became her dreams." Tim sounded amused.

"You can be a real buzz-kill sometimes, you know?" She punched him in the shoulder.

"So, you keep telling me." Tim answered yet again. "You think we're friends because we get each other?"

"I think it's more because no one else gets us." Sasha answered with a smile as she watched the crowd part backstage. The President came walking up, surrounded by his staff and Secret Service.

"How you doing, Sport?" The President rubbed his son's head. "You brought your friend?"

"Mom said I could." Tim immediately answered.

"Good for you." The President was smiling. "Where are your brothers?"

"I don't know, Dad." Tim answered honestly. The President looked to the head of his own detail to track down that of his sons.

"Where's your mother?" The President lowered his gaze down to look at his son who pointed out to the stage where his mom was standing next to Sheryl Crow singing into the microphone. "Just like your mother." Nate grinned and laughed. "Have fun kids."

"Sir, we're working on the numbers for how much we raised tonight, I think you'll be pleased to know that it's over a million dollars." Charlie caught up with the President.

Out on the stage, the First Lady and Sheryl Crow were doing a version of _Let's Give Them Something to Talk About_ which the President was enjoying immensely. "Everyone!" The President addressed the rest of the staff. "Take the rest of the night off and enjoy yourselves."

"You still got that mini-skirt?" Gunny turned toward Stacy with wicked grin.

"And the fishnets." Stacy answered with a coy smile of her own.

0204 ZULU

WASHINGTON NAVY YARD

WASHINGTON, DC

"Rough day, today." Harm walked into Bax's office.

"I practically shot myself in the foot." Bax turned the swivel of the chair to face Harm rather then the window.

"You did the right thing, you did exactly what I've been telling you to do for more then a month, you stood up and told the truth and the truth is that it was wrong to keep this from the President for as long as we did." Harm took a seat across from his old friend.

"I've been sitting here trying to draft my letter of resignation for the last hour. I've been wondering what the hell I'm supposed to say; how I'm supposed to explain all of this away and hope that somehow I don't get thrown in jail." Bax ran a hand through his hair.

"Put the poison pen away, Bax. You were just following orders. A.J. and Andrea might be caught under the wheels for this one, at least one of them will, I imagine. Tom will probably get out of it because he's too low on the Totem Pole to matter. General Fitzpatrick would get fried by Congress for violating Goldwater-Nichols though." Harm huffed. "He'll get hit again for not telling the Vice Chairman."

"He couldn't tell Sturgis and keep it under wraps, that would have led to the Oval Office directly." Bax explained, still looking at the blank yellow paper in front of him.

"And Congress will argue that it should have anyway. Only the President has the power to determine when something of this scale should be kept under wraps." Harm leaned forward in the chair. "I'm still wondering what the hell they were all thinking. I mean, I know what Tom was thinking. With his experience with China, he was willing to bet that he could fix this before it got too big."

"But that implies pro-active State Department involvement. You think that the President's going to fire the Secretary of State?" Bax seemed shocked.

"No one gets fired in Washington, Bax. They tender their resignation long before something that embarrassing could happen." Harm looked at the carpet in the office. His eyes quickly tracing the patterns. "What happened over the last six weeks, it shows conspiracy and at least two people are going to have to pay for it and they're going to have to be big fish. That means that the Secretary of State and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs are gone."

"Why not A.J.?" Bax asked, unnerved by his friend's sudden burst of political savvy.

"Because the Press likes him too much." Harm answered. "Every politician seeks good press and the President will keep him in his post until that good press stops. Besides, this is more of a diplomatic and intelligence failure anyway, which means that the Secretary of State has to go."

"Well, I can think of one thing that would save them both." Bax's tension seemed to disappear in that instant.

"What?" Harm asked in mired disbelief.

"If they were right. If there's no oil under the surface of the Taiwan Strait, the two of them will get to keep their jobs." Bax raised a hand to his chin.

"Well, we'll know in forty-eight hours, won't we?" Harm answered.

0432 ZULU

HABITAT FOR HUMANITY CONCERT

RICHMOND, VIRGINIA

The President walked out on the stage, waving to the crowd. National news services had cut to the conference after doing their national nightly news. He approached the microphone and the crowd went silent. It was just before midnight on the East Coast and right in the middle of primetime out West. "I am informed, that there are at present, over 370,000 people here tonight!" The President shouted into the microphone. "Those over 370,000 people have raised over 2 million dollars for Habitat for Humanity!"

A loud cheer erupted from the crowd. The President was joined on stage by Jon Bon Jovi and Dave Matthews. "That two million dollars is going to help provide a better future for a lot of Americans who otherwise wouldn't have their prayers answered. America, we can be very proud of ourselves tonight." The President concluded.

"For the last twelve hours, we've shared a lot of music and a lot of memories with the people here in Richmond. We've crossed musical genres and even generations to bring something for everyone to this event." Jon told the crowd.

"But, now we've got to wrap it up." Dave took over. "So, for this last song tonight, we'd like to call out everyone who performed tonight." The Performers flooded the stage. "We'd also like to call on the Vice Presidential hopeful, the White House Chief of Staff, the First Lady and even the President to join us in this number." The President waved his hands in protest of the invitation but Matthews and Bon Jovi goaded the crowd into a cheer and within seconds, chants of 'Ross! Ross! Ross!' echoed from the crowd.

The President finally gave in when he was joined by Sturgis, Gunny and his wife Nicole on stage. Dave Matthews smiled and handed the microphone to Steven Page from the Barenaked Ladies. "When we were all talking about what kind of encore we were going to do, we figured that it had to be a song everyone might know and a song to honour Richmond for hosting the event tonight. So, here it goes." He handed the microphone back to Dave Matthews who set it up in front of him and cued up the band. The introduction played and Dave began to sing.

_Well, Virgil Cain is the name and I served on the Danville Train_

_Till Stoneman's cavalry came and tore up the tracks again_

_In the winter of '65 _

_We were hungry, just barely alive_

_By May the 10th, Richmond had fell _

_It was a night, I remember oh so well_

The entire chorus of performers, including the President, First Lady, Sturgis and Gunny joined in for the chorus, having recognized the song about halfway through the first verse.

_The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down_

_And the bells were ringing_

_The night they drove old Dixie Down_

_And the people were singing_

_They went na, na, na, na, na, na, na-na, na-na, na-na na-na, na_

Toby Keith took over the next verse from Dave Matthews and with his huskier southern voice he added actual lament to the testament of the fallen rebel heroes

_Back with my wife in Tennessee, when one day she called to me_

_Virgil, quick come see, there goes Robert E. Lee_

_Now, I don't mind chopping wood _

_And I don't care if the money's no good_

_You take what you need and you leave the rest_

_But they should never have taken the very best_

With one arm roped around his wife's waist and the other over the shoulders of Sturgis, the President, along with everyone else was smiling their faces off almost. This was a true thank you to the people of Virginia who had hosted this and many other moments which were written on the face of history

_The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down_

_And the bells were ringing_

_The night they drove old Dixie Down_

_And the people were singing_

_They went na, na, na, na, na, na, na-na, na-na, na-na, na_

Toby handed the microphone off to Jakob Dylan for the last verse. The young superstar's raspier tenor took over the command of the last verse.

_Like my father before me, I'm a working man_

_And like my brother before me, who took a rebel stand_

_He was just eighteen, proud and brave_

_When a Yankee laid him in his grave_

_I swear by the blood below my feet_

_You can't raise a Cain back up when he's in defeat_

The entire chorus joined in once again for a rousing rendition of the final chorus. Six or Seven people crowded around each of the microphones on stage. Lighters in the audience were out in full force and the crowd was so ready to sing that they might drown out the performers on stage.

_The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down_

_And the bells were ringing_

_The night they drove old Dixie Down_

_And the people were singing_

_They went na, na, na, na, na, na, na-na, na-na, na-na, na_

"Remember when I told you during the campaign that there's one moment when you know you're going to win and nothing beats that moment?" Charlie shouted over the noise to Stacy who was also backstage.

"Yeah." She replied with a smile.

"This is that moment." He told her with a smile.


	54. Indecision 2012 Part 1

"It's Election Day." Charlie cracked his knuckles as he walked into their Penthouse war room in the Hampton Inn in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. "By this time tomorrow, over a hundred million votes will have been cast and the rest of the world will now whether or not we're going to have West Wing offices for the next four years."

"Not to mention the whole President of the United States thing." Stacy chimed in, her hands cradling a steaming cup of coffee.

"Well, we've only spent the last eight months and over two hundred million dollars on that; it would seem kind of funny to forget about it now." Gunny took a seat in the chair. "Polls open on the East Coast in ten minutes."

"What do we do for the rest of the day?" Stacy looked to Charlie.

"First exit polls roll in about one o'clock. We let the President take on a lighter schedule since it's Election Day. He and the First Lady will be at their house here in the city for the day. He's got a few conference calls and a meeting with the National Security Advisor this afternoon but as long as nothing unexpected happens, this is our one lazy day." Charlie grinned. "It's also our fling day."

"Fling day?" Gunny looked slightly confused.

"On most campaigns, the night before the election; there are just throngs of random hook-ups among campaign staff. On the first campaign, I think I counted twenty-four hook-ups from the night before. Of course, I'll be in here all day managing our 'Get Out the Vote' effort, keeping tabs on the exit polling, the media coverage and the weather to make sure that everything's going just the way we want it to. But I imagine we'll all be seeing couples do the Walk of Shame while the sneak off to hotel rooms throughout the day." Charlie laughed as he sunk into a chair in front of a laptop.

"Wasn't this supposed to happen last night according the tradition." Stacy sipped her coffee.

"We got into Pennsylvania just after two in the morning last night, if anyone had the energy to screw then they're popping caffeine pills." Charlie punched a few keys and brought up the CNN website.

"So, twenty-four couples snuck off together four years ago, huh?" Gunny broke the uneasy silence that had followed Charlie's statement.

"What is it about a campaign that makes everyone so amorous?" Stacy tossed a loose sideways grin at Gunny.

"Adrenaline. Well, I'm not sure that it makes guys amorous so much as it…" Charlie kind of trailed off near the end.

"Makes us want to screw like bunnies in heat?" Gunny added, trying to hide his smile behind his coffee mug.

"Sounds about right." Charlie laughed.

"Ugh, men." Stacy rolled her eyes.

"Hey, it's not our fault that all this adrenaline and testosterone combine for a powerful cocktail that makes us want to have sex with everything in a skirt." Gunny answered with a chuckle, hoping that his vague generality cloaked in hyper-masculine stereotypes could shade his real desire to just take her by the hand to his hotel room.

"The President's lucky that he's married; after Election Day four years ago, I was worried that the First Lady would be walking funny for a week." Charlie covered his mouth with his hand in an attempt to contain his laughter.

"Don't you find that we pretty much need to keep a consistent bucket of ice water around when those two are in the same room and the adrenaline is high?" Stacy added he own laugh to the pleasant conversation. The crowds of campaign workers staggered drowsily into the war room. "I think you might have to give the staff the old Knute Rockne."

Charlie decided to let out a whistle and draw the attention of the room. "Alright, you've all put in quite an effort over the last eight months to forward this re-election effort. If there have been any missteps in this campaign, they've come from us here at senior staff and not from all of you. We'd all like to think that this was a perfect campaign, it hasn't been but we got damn close. I'd like to remind you all that you should have voted by now via absentee ballot. If you're from this precinct, then please go vote now before you do anything else." Charlie looked around and saw a few people slink toward the door. "Other then that, have fun this morning. Have a good breakfast and be sure to check in here at one o'clock when the first round of exit polling comes in. To those of you on 'Get Out the Vote' detail, man a phone station." Charlie dismissed the crowd.

You could slowly see couples pair off. There were the ones who had they cutesy, puppy dog looks in their eyes and the ones who had the embers of a raw and burning passion. The jingling of room keys seemed to be the soundtrack to some primitive political mating ritual. Stacy crossed her arms as she stood next to Gunny, their backs against the window to the room. They watched as Kat and Mitch slowly snuck out of the room, their hands locked together. "Really?" Gunny whispered out of surprise.

"I'm surprised that they waited this long to go at it." Stacy smiled fondly. Their attention was drawn as Morley followed a few seconds later with two young University of Pennsylvania volunteers clinging to his arms; one blonde, the other a brunette. "I didn't see that one coming.

"He's a cradle robber!" Gunny answered in a whispered mock surprise.

"I'm half expecting you to go traipsing off to your room with someone." She whispered back.

"No one's made me an enticing offer yet." He replied, trying to get her to.

"Some girls like the guy to do the offering." She replied coyly. "I'm going to go check with the phone bank."

"Polls open in three…two…" Charlie counted down.

1318 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"And we're back at another Election Day." Harm rolled his eyes as he poured Mac another cup of coffee.

"You never seem very enthused when you say that." Mac grinned and hugged him. "What's going on at OpNavs today, Admiral?" She tossed at him coyly.

"Not a whole lot." Harm answered as he turned to face her. "A few intelligence briefs, I have to file a few procurement requests for the next round of Navy budget appropriations and review our new recruiting campaign."

"Then you pass it on up the chain, right?" Mac settled into her seat at the table.

"Not very exciting?" Harm chanced a quick flyboy grin as he sat down next to her.

"Not really, but you're young yet so there's a really good chance that you'll get promoted right to the top." She kissed him on the cheek. "Besides, you've got four stars and your twenty in, so even if you didn't want to go any further up the chain, you could get a decent salary with a Defence contractor."

"Probably make more then I do now." Harm laughed. "Are you trying to hint at something, your honour?"

"No, I just hate seeing you mired in some dusty office at the Washington Navy Yard. Especially when you don't seem to be enjoying it all that much." She lightly ran her hand soothingly over his arm.

"I know, Mac. But we've all got to cut our teeth somewhere; I rose up through the ranks so quickly that I was bound to hit a bit of a lull sometime." He kissed her cheek again. "But enough about me, how's your court schedule look today?"

"Hearing a few cases. Nothing I can talk about though, you know that." She smiled sheepishly.

"Yes, I know legal ethics, Mac." Harm stated plainly.

"Yes, but I think your book on them has that special chapter about shooting up courtroom ceilings." Mac tossed back at him as she cleared the table. "Have the kids been down here already?"

"They took their breakfast and ran to sit in front of the TV." Harm answered. "I think they're showing some rerun or something on TBS. God knows what Sasha would want to watch at this hour."

"Harm, they're kids and like it or not, TV and the internet are a part of what it is to be a kid nowadays. When we were kids, it was TV and endless hours of talking on the phone." Mac mused as she leaned back against the edge of the counter.

"Hey, speak for yourself, I played sports." Harm stuffed a few stray papers into his briefcase.

"I know, your mom isn't exactly secretive with the pictures of your football days." Mac tried to hide her amusement. "You had quite the little tushie when you played peewee football, honey." Mac had succeeded in her task of getting her husband to blush.

"Mac…" Harm crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Alright, you big cry-baby." She walked over and quickly kissed him on the lips. She followed that with a quick pat on the chest. "Try to have fun at work today."

"Yeah, yeah." Harm shook his head and walked out of the kitchen.

"And don't forget…" Mac started.

"To vote, I know, I know." Harm finished her sentence for her as he shut the door to the house behind him.

"What am I going to do with that man?" Mac lightly whispered to herself as she raised her index finger to her lips. After quickly brushing her teeth, Mac walked over to the front door where the kids were dressed and ready to go.

"Come on, mom; hurry up! We don't want to be late!" Sasha shouted in an attempt to motivate her mom.

"Coming, coming." Mac rushed over. "Alright, are you two sure that you have everything?"

"Yes, mom." The kids answered.

"I'm not going to get any calls halfway through the day telling me that you forgot something at home, am I?" Mac's maternal instinct was doing double time.

"No, mom." They answered again.

"Good, let's get going then." Mac opened the door.

1654 ZULU

HAMPTON INN

BETHLEHEM, PENNSYLVANIA

Stacy walked in with coffee from the Starbucks down the street. If Election Day in Bethlehem wasn't an official local holiday, it at least was an unofficial one. As she stood in line for the coffee, at least two dozen people had come up to her to tell her that they had voted for the President. Lehigh Valley-Northampton County, where Bethlehem is located, was a national bellwether but with a Native Son in the race, the place went wild for Ross. There were seas of Democratic Blue all over the streets and rows of lawn signs as far as the eye could see.

"Nothing like a good cappuccino." Charlie took his cup from Stacy.

"Any good news from our campaign workers on the ground?" She asked, gazing over at the busy phone bank in the war room.

"Weird news, actually. The student vote is through the roof; African American voting in the South is reported to be higher then it had ever been and Latino turn out in Texas is up." Charlie studied the map of the United States on the Dry Erase board. "These exit polls are encouraging, I never thought we'd run like this on our re-elect."

"Must be what the Reagan camp felt against Mondale in 1984 or what Johnson felt when he crushed Goldwater." Morley joined the group over by the window.

"Surprised you were able to tear yourself away from the co-eds long enough to join us." Gunny laughed inferring a slightly envious sarcasm.

"Needed to recharge the battery." Morley offered. "You guys seen Kat around?"

"Not since she snuck off with Mitch this morning." Stacy answered. "Don't you think that this is slightly immature, everyone running around this hotel like a bunch of sex-starved teenagers?"

"We've all been a collection of priests and nuns for the last eight months and you're decrying the one day that we get to have fun?" Morley shook his head. "I'm disappointed."

"Yeah, Stacy, might do you some good to have a little _fun_, if you know what I mean." Kat finally joined in the conversation. She nudged Stacy with her forearm.

"No, I have no idea what I mean, please help me break your impenetrable subtlety." Stacy rolled her eyes at the Deputy Communications Director.

"Alright, alright you two, break it up." Charlie joked, his glasses dancing on the bridge his nose.

"Come on, Stacy, let's go get some lunch. The buffet downstairs looked pretty good." Kat tugged her counterpart by the sleeve of her jacket. The two women walked out of the war room and down the hall to the elevator. The waited in idle silence for the doors to slide open before stepping inside. "Seriously, you can't have spent all morning manning the phones."

"What's wrong with that?" Stacy sounded slightly offended.

"Nothing, but you worked your ass off on this campaign, you deserve a bit of a break." Kat protested. "Come on, how hard is it to get a guy, walk into a hotel room with him and push him on to the bed?"

"Tougher then you'd think." Stacy muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" Kat leaned in, having missed the last comment.

"I said, it's tougher then you'd think." Stacy was louder this time.

"Why is that?" Kat pressed.

"Because I've got feelings for this guy." Stacy answered and fell back against the wall of the elevator.

"Feelings? Don't those take time to develop?" Kat sported a half grin and caught a glare from Stacy. "I'm not making fun of you, I'm just saying that the only guy you're around pretty much ever is…" Realization dawned on the young White House staffer. She reached out and pulled the emergency stop lever on the elevator. "No!"

"What do you mean 'no!'?" Stacy crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"I mean, do I have to tell you how completely dangerous this is?" Kat's happiness of a few minutes ago seemed to drain completely. "The press would have a field day with this, no wonder you can't do anything."

Stacy brought her hand up to shield her face. "Kat, how the hell did this happen?!" She demanded.

"Well, he's charismatic and funny and not completely unfortunate looking. Those are probably good starting points." Kat shrugged sympathetically.

"No, not that. I get why the physical attraction happened. I don't understand why I can't stop thinking about him. I don't understand how he worked his way into my dreams and perhaps what's worst of all is that my heart doesn't seem to understand why I can't have him." Stacy let out a sigh.

"How long do you think you can repress those feelings?" Kat put her hands on the cold steel railing inside the elevator.

"Why do you ask?" Stacy didn't want to look at her friend right now.

"Well, the entire second term might be too much to ask but do you think you could hold them in at least until the polls close on the West Coast?" Kat put her hands on Stacy's shoulder to stress her seriousness. "After that, I really don't care what the two of you do as consenting adults other then to say that as your friend, I'm happy for you."

"I'm not sure whether I should thank you for that or not." Stacy replied with a sceptical look on her face.

"You don't have to, but we'll say you did just for the hell of it." Kat flipped the emergency switch on the elevator and it lurched downward again.

1748 ZULU

WASHINGTON NAVY YARD

WASHINGTON, DC

Admiral Harmon Rabb pinched the bridge of his nose. Procurement requests were the worst part of this job. He had to work through them all and make sure that they made it to the Hill in time to squeeze them into the last round of budget negotiations. He'd done this so well last year that the Washington Post had dubbed him 'the Senator from the Navy'. If you stared at the numbers on the page long they all seemed to run together in a none too pleasing fashion. He rubbed his eyes. He needed to finish these up before he could reasonably head out for lunch so he returned his focus and attempted to trudge through them.

"You know, you can hand those off to the DCNOs, if you want? If you think your time is better served elsewhere." Bax stood in Harm's door with some take out Chinese food. He walked over and took a seat, shirking off his blue Class A jacket. Bax took a few cartons of food out of the bag and set them out on the desk. "I got the call in from Langley a few minutes ago."

"About Taiwan?" Harm inquired, reaching for the chopsticks. "What did they say?"

"Their man inside the Taiwanese government tells them that it's oil. The Taiwanese are going to announce the Dynecorp contract on Friday in a press conference." Bax answered, the posture of his shoulders betraying a subtle resignation. "It's not like we didn't know that this was coming."

"Well shit, at least we're prepared for it." Harm leaned forward and cracked open the carton of chow mein. It was at least a comfort to know that they had done that, they'd readied American forces in the Pacific within the bounds granted to them by the 1948 National Security Act; it was one of the legal tight-ropes that they had walked in the last few weeks. You couldn't raise the Defence condition or activate more forces without the President signing off on it but as it now stood, they didn't need to worry about either of those things.

"A godsend if there ever was one." Bax replied. "We've got three carriers operating in the Pacific right now, right?"

"Lincoln, Washington and Stennis." Harm answered. "Lincoln and Washington are carrying Marine Expeditionary Units. Does Mike Bradley know all this? I mean he's briefing the President in a few minutes, isn't he?"

"I imagine that Clayton called him before he called me. I've talked to John Flagler; he's got his subs on their pre-approved routes. Secretary Chegwidden's ready for the President to call him in an irate mood; I imagine that Tom Boone is bracing himself in a similar manner." Bax couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his throat.

"I hate to say it, but it's their own damn fault. The second A.J. found out he should have gone right to the President with it, or at least told Mike Bradley or Clayton Webb and let them do it." Harm ran his left hand through his hair as he cracked open the iced tea can. "Things sure have changed since Annapolis, huh?"

"Actually, I'd say things are pretty much the same. People still want to kill us. China is one bad day away from carpet-bombing Taiwan, Israelis and Palestinians are still blowing each other up and Washington is still a place where animus and politics make their home." Bax swallowed the noodles in his mouth. "In fact, I'm a little depressed; shit hasn't changed at all in thirty years."

"Maybe we've changed?" Harm asked with a fond grin.

"Let's see, you're the still the upstanding citizen; Sturgis is still the studious one, Keeter is still a letch and me, well…" Bax's sentence just kind of trailed off.

"Science has yet to define what you are exactly?" Harm chanced with a friendly grin.

"Thanks for the ringing endorsement, Harm." Bax rolled his eyes.

"Any time, buddy." Harm chuckled.

"Did you vote today?" Bax changed the subject.

"You're as bad as Mac, you know that? Yes, I voted." Harm responded, slightly annoyed.

"Just trying to keep the guy in the big White House on Pennsylvania Avenue happy." Bax smiled and go up out of his chair. "Catch you later, Harm."

1809 ZULU

ROSS HOUSE

BETHLEHEM, PENNSYLVANIA

"I _LOVE_ Election Day." Nate was lying next to his wife, the two of them were sweat drenched and panting. "Remind me to thank my mom for looking after the kids today."

"I am going to send that woman one hell of a gift for giving us a bit of rest today." Nicole leaned over and planted a kiss right on her husband's lips. "Is it a little weird that you're _this_ excited about getting four hours of down time?"

"Honey, I'm a workaholic and the President of the United States, four years in this office and I've taken a total of sixteen days of vacation. I'm worn out." He wrapped his arm around her.

"With what you've been doing for the last two hours, I highly doubt that." Her teeth shone as the soft noon sun trickled into their bedroom. He held her to him and kissed the top of her head. He chuckled softly against her brown hair. "What's so funny?" She asked softly.

"Just wondering how many candidates have slept with their Campaign Directors." Nate's grin was relaxed if not the slightest bit drowsy.

"Is that what I am?" Nicole perched her chin on her husband's left pectoral and gazed into his eyes.

"I think that's what you made yourself, dear." The President replied with a bemused grin.

"Well, it's not my fault that I don't trust just anyone with your political future." She replied, with serious tone her flirtatious attitude slowly seeping from her demeanour. "Seriously, it looks as if you might get a second term today, knock on wood." She tapped the bed-frame with her knuckles. "Don't pussyfoot around the issues with this moderate crap; you're a liberal, act like a liberal. Besides, I think four more years of attempting to be a moderate might kill you."

"Yes, dear." Nate rolled his eyes. At that moment, a knock came at the door and Nate decided to shout rather then actually go to the door. "Who is it?!"

"Agent Simpson, sir. You have a meeting with National Security Advisor Bradley right now." The head of the Presidential Security Detail told his boss. Inside the bedroom, the President through a t-shirt on and a pair of jeans before heading to the door.

"Mike's here?" The President walked out of the bedroom. "He's early."

"Yes, sir, he's in the living room downstairs waiting for you." Agent Simpson pointed toward the stairs and the President led the way down. Sure enough, the National Security Advisor was sitting on the couch watching CNN. "Mike." Nate walked over and shook his hand.

"Mr. President." The National Security Advisor replied.

"Why did you schedule this meeting, Mike?" The President took a seat in the Lazy boy recliner.

"Sir, I'm going to need a guarantee from you that you won't get angry before I start talking." Mike deadpanned. "Six weeks ago it came to our attention that a Taiwanese drilling ship hit what we assumed to be, but couldn't be sure was, an oil deposit in the Northern Taiwan Strait."

"Oh, hell's bells!" The President grunted angrily. "Just what the hell do you mean by _our_ attention? Just who the hell all knew about this?"

"Sir, you might want to pick swear words other then hell, just for the sake of originality." Mike deadpanned once again in an attempt to ad levity to the situation.

"What the fuck was this group thinking? Who the hell was involved? And can you give me one good reason why I shouldn't summarily fire your collective asses?!" The President was shouting now. "Now, do you want to make some smart ass comment about originality?"

"No, sir." Mike gulped hard. "We were thinking that it was in the best interest of everyone concerned that we not throw the apparatus of the National Security Council into motion over mere idle speculation. This was first brought to the attention of the COMSUBPAC, Secretary of State and Secretary and Deputy Secretary of Defence; then the Director of the CIA, myself and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs; last, it was brought to the attentions of the Chief and Vice Chief of Naval Operations."

"So, there were nine of you including my brother in law, one of my family's oldest friends and four of my oldest friends and none of you could bring yourselves to tell me this for _six weeks!_" Nate was on his feet again. "I think we're back to reasons why you all shouldn't be summarily fired."

"To be fair, Clayton, myself and Admirals Baxter, Rabb and Flagler all wanted to tell you but the Admirals were lax to go around the chain of command; Clayton wanted to be sure of the intelligence before confirming anything and I'm pretty sure that I was kept out of the loop by State and the Pentagon to the greatest degree possible." Mike stared down at his intertwined fingers.

"Agent Simpson would you get Mr. Galindez and Admiral Turner for me?" Nate turned to the head of his Security Detail. "Alright, so that explains why the five of you didn't tell me but it doesn't explain A.J., Andrea or General Fitzpatrick."

"I'm sure that'll all come out in the next few days, Mr. President." Mike told his boss, feeling just the least bit disappointed in himself for having betrayed the confidence of his friend.

1943 ZULU

HAMPTON INN

BETHLEHEM, PENNSYLVANIA

Gunny stood in his room with the radio softly filling the atmosphere around him. He gazed out the window overlooking the city. From his hotel room you could almost see far enough as to bring the whole Lehigh Valley into view. The satellite radio was replaying some of the highlights from the previous night's concert. He heard the door click behind him as it shut. "That sure was one heck of a night last night, huh?" The lighter feminine voice started.

"The most fun that I've ever had on this job." He smiled as he turned to face her.

"I never knew that the First Lady could actually sing." Stacy sauntered over toward him, the slightest glint of determination in her eye. Just as she said that the radio seemed to cue up the duet that the First Lady had sung with Sheryl Crow the night before. "You don't think it's a little odd that the First Lady teamed up with Sheryl Crow to sing a song that Bonnie Raitt made famous?"

"When Hollywood and Politics mix, something's bound to be a little odd. Let's be glad that the only thing that's odd is a song." He chuckled to himself and she turned up the radio.

_People are talking_

_Talking about people_

_I hear them whisper_

_You won't believe it_

_They think we're lovers_

_Kept under covers_

_I'll just ignore it_

_But they keep saying _

_We laugh just a little too loud_

_We stand just a little too close_

_We stare just a little too long_

_Maybe they're seeing _

_Something we don't, darling_

Stacy walked over and laid her hands on his shoulders. "You don't think it's just a little cheesy to dance to the radio in a hotel room?"

"Who said anything about dancing?" She replied coyly, instantly peaking his interest

_Let's give them something to talk about_

_A little mystery to figure out_

_Let's give them something to talk about _

_How about love?_

He turned her around in his arms and proceeded to wrap them around her waist as she settled her back against his chest.

_I feel so foolish_

_I never noticed_

_You'd act so nervous_

_Could you be falling for me?_

_It took a rumour_

_To make me wonder_

_Now I'm convinced that I'm going under_

_I'm thinking about you everyday_

_Dreaming about you every night_

_I'm hoping that you feel the same way_

_Now that we know it_

_Let's really show it, darling_

She snaked a hand up behind his neck and prepared to pull him in for a kiss just as his cell rang. "Gunny." He picked it up and the two of them broke apart. "Are they at the house?" He asked and it was followed by another pause. "Yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can."

"National Security emergency?" She tried incredibly hard to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"Sounds like it." He replied, trying just as hard to sound dispassionate. He walked across the hotel room and slung his coat over his shoulders. "I'll be back with the President and Admiral Turner before the polls closed on the East Coast, probably."

"Okay." She nodded lightly, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Talk you later?" He asked before slipping through the door.

"Yeah." She replied in her best non-committal tone.

2031 ZULU

ROSS HOUSE

BETHLEHEM, PENNSYLVANIA

The President, Sturgis and his National Security Advisor all sat around the coffee table in the living room. "Sturgis, what can you tell me about Admiral Flagler?" The President looked at the man who, if fortune held, would be the Vice President-Elect in a few hours.

"Well, from the few performance reviews that I've read about the man, he seems to be just the steady hand that we'd need in this situation. He was one of the first submarine commanders to enter the red zone off of North Korea. Word is that you'd have to set off a firecracker under him in order to startle him." Sturgis answered in his typical pensive understated tone.

"Look, Mr. President, this whole thing is based first upon the assumption that China will necessarily act because they see Taiwanese oil deposits in contravention of the One China Policy. Second, there is the factor that Beijing would attack an offshore station with American and Russian personnel; no one at CIA thinks Beijing is that insistent upon their regional hegemony." Mike Bradley advised, letting out a heavy breath.

"Those are some awful big assumptions." The President started. "Meanwhile we've got half the Pacific Fleet in that area and one of the largest series of American military installations in the world on Okinawa only a few hours away by plane."

Gunny came walking through the door at that moment. He looked to his right and headed into the wood panelled walls of the living room. "I got the call, what's the emergency?"

"It would seem that the Taiwanese have struck oil in the Northern Taiwan Strait." Mike Bradley answered.

"Is it in their territorial waters?" Gunny asked, suddenly aware of the gravity of the situation.

"Just barely." Sturgis answered. "But there's no dispute that on an international law basis that the deposits are not in international waters."

"Not that international law has exactly stopped China from any previous abuses of the system." The President interjected. "As far as we know, Beijing has kept a lid on the media snooping into this story on the mainland. What we're now learning from CIA, is that Taipei has done the same thing in order to make this international knowledge during a big press conference on Friday."

"Fan-fucking-tastic." Gunny shook his head. "Is there some reason that we're being ambushed with all of this on Election Day?"

"Yeah, that's my fault." Mike Bradley stood up. "A lot of us had some rough intelligence on this going back six weeks but we didn't think it was enough to bring to the attention of the White House."

"And by _a lot of us, _who exactly are we talking about?" Gunny asked, now directing his annoyance at the National Security Advisor.

"The Secretaries of Defence and State, myself, the Director of the CIA and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs." Mike hung his head.

"Jesus tap dancing Christ, Mike! What the hell were the five of you thinking?" Gunny shouted.

"Calm down, I already tore a strip off of his back." The President stepped in. "Gunny, provided we get re-elected tonight, the Cabinet has to submit their resignations to me within the month by tradition, right?"

"Yes, sir." Gunny nodded.

"Inform the Secretary of State that I will be accepting her resignation when it is presented to me. She will be made our Ambassador to Russia. I'll talk to General Fitzpatrick about his resignation in a few weeks once we sort this all out." The President directed.

"Yes, sir." Gunny nodded.

"As I see it, there isn't much we can do until Friday. So, we'll talk through a few options for the next little while but I have to head over to the war room by 1900." The President looked around the room. "Who's first?"


	55. Indecision 2012 Part 2

"We locked up the Northeast!" Charlie called out to Gunny who was re-entering the war room.

"We've had the Northeast since the convention, when are they going to start rolling through the numbers down South?" Gunny walked over to join the senior staffers who were staring at the collection of television sets in front of them.

"A lot of the southern states are going to be too close to call. If we're lucky, we might get Tennessee, North Carolina and Arkansas called before midnight." Morley chose to answer this time.

"Then talk to me about the Midwest, how are we doing in Ohio or Indiana or Kentucky?" Gunny turned to Kat, who he figured would be all over this.

"MSNBC just called Ohio for us; we're expecting Kentucky within the hour but I don't think you're going a call on Indiana before midnight." Kat answered, staring down at her Blackberry.

"Where's Mitch?" Gunny raised a hand to his chin.

"Satellite interview with CNN." Stacy answered as she came up beside him. "Took an awful long time getting back here; polls closed on the East Coast an hour ago."

"The words National Security Emergency should get me off the hook." He whispered back with a grin.

"Maybe this time." Stacy answered, trying to prevent a blush from lighting her cheeks. "Senator Micholias retained his Senate seat in New Hampshire."

"So, the Republicans at least got some good news out of New England." Gunny chuckled. "Still six competitive Senate races left tonight, let's get on it."

"Three competitive Gubernatorial races in Missouri, North Carolina and Texas, too." Morley pointed out as he directed someone on his staff to bring the padded chairs over to the phone bank. "We've got to keep that phone bank up and running, we've still got half an hour of voting on the plains states and an hour and a half out west."

"It's scary that you know those times by heart." Kat groaned as she picked up the phone. "Get me the Omaha Headquarters."

"Everyone shut up!" Gunny shouted into the room as Chris Matthews appeared on screen for MSNBC.

"MSNBC is now ready to project that Florida and its 27 electoral votes will be going for President Nathan Ross." Matthews told the audience and the campaign war room erupted into cheers. "We're also projecting Michigan and its 17 electoral votes will be going for the President, giving him a total of 194 electoral votes so far this evening."

"And they haven't even hit some of the biggest blue states, yet." Gunny grinned. "They still need to call Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, Washington, Oregon and the grand-daddy of them all, California."

"We ran a good campaign." Stacy looked around at the war room that was buzzing like an active beehive. "Are you going to get on the horn with the campaign chairs in Colorado, Arizona and Texas?"

"Already on it. You're going to make sure that our election lawyers on the ground in Jackson, Baton Rouge, Austin, Atlanta and Nashville keep the polls open long enough to get all the voters in lines into the polls right?" Gunny felt the need to sort of break the loose strand of sexual tension which had roped the two of them.

"I did it an hour ago." Stacy told him.

"Good girl." Gunny wore a crooked smile.

"Put me in a Catholic school girl outfit and you'll be singing a different tune." Stacy replied with a coy grin of her own. So much for cutting that thread of sexual tension. Damn but did she know how to draw him back in. Maybe it was her golden hair or her serenely tanned, light caramel skin, her glistening blue eyes or just the way she smiled when she knew that she'd gotten the better of him.

"I might have to try that sometime." He grinned and then realized that he was speaking with the head of the Texas Democratic Party on the phone. "No, not you, Mr. Chairman."

"What the hell is going on there, Galindez?" The Texan shouted.

"It's part pandemonium and part Mardi Gras, Mr. Chairman. How's turnout in Texas?" Gunny was smiling.

"We had to set up over a hundred portable washrooms in Austin alone to accommodate the Student vote. Reports are that African American vote is up across the state, as is the Latino vote." He answered. "Polls are closing soon, it's going to be close, but I don't think it'll be quite as close as the media is predicting."

"Thank you, Mr. Chairman." Gunny hung up the phone.

0203 ZULU

HAMPTON INN

BETHLEHEM, PENNSYLVANIA

"Holy mother of God, I can't believe it's actually here." Sturgis sat on the edge of the bed feeling his stomach turn almost violently. "Was it this tough for you in your first election?" He turned to Bobbi who was on the phone.

"Might have been tougher for me." She smiled. "I had no one around me who had been elected to an office before. She looked up at the television and saw CNN prepare to announce a few more state projections. "Shhhh." She lightly hushed her husband.

"At this moment," Wolf Blitzer announced on CNN, "CNN is ready to call Illinois and its 21 electoral votes long with Wisconsin and its ten electoral votes, Minnesota and its ten electoral votes and Iowa and its seven electoral votes for President Nathan Ross. This brings the Democratic electoral vote total for the night up to 241 electoral votes, only 29 electoral votes short of what is necessary to re-elect the President but we still have a number of states in the south where the polls have closed and the races are tight and out west where the polls have only just now closed."

"This has got to be depressing for the Republicans, so far only Alabama has been called for them. The rest of the South, except Virginia and Florida is way too close to call." Bobbi lightly rubbed his back.

"Yeah, but they were able to hold on to Senate seats in Minnesota and New Hampshire, so it isn't all bad news." Sturgis pointed out, still focused intently on the TV.

"Ah, but they lost the Senate race in Florida." Bobbi countered.

"Yeah, but Perez was the most vulnerable Republican Senator this year. So, beating him probably wasn't all that tough, he was more conservative then the state is as a whole." Sturgis lay back on the bed. "I bet you've already started picking out drapery colours for One Observatory Circle." He grinned, referring the Vice Presidential mansion.

"Maybe a few, but only for the living room." She replied as she lay next to him. "When you declared back in January, did you honestly think that we'd be here?"

"Honestly?" Sturgis questioned. "Nah, I figured Danny Proper would kick my ass around the block. He had the experience, the education, the political machinery and geographically, he made sense. I got into this, because I got sick of elections just being two clean cut white guys going up against another two clean cut white guys; white men aren't as accurate a representation of America as they used to be and it was about time something changed to show the world that."

Bobbi felt her cell phone ring in her pocket while she let herself be mesmerized by her husband's quick tirade. "Senator Latham." She answered simply.

"Hey, Bobbi, is your husband there?" Harm asked on the other end.

"Sure, he's right here." She smiled and handed the phone to her husband who looked slightly puzzled.

"Hello?" Sturgis ventured.

"Hello, Mr. Vice President." Harm replied, one could almost hear the smile through the phone.

"Harm, that's like saying 'good luck' to an actor before a performance." Sturgis couldn't help but smile himself.

"Well, I was going to tell you to break a leg, but I didn't think that it would play well on CNN." Harm answered. "When's the big speech?"

"I don't think it's going to be before 2330, Harm. They're pretty suspicious around here. They won't do squat until they can get a confirmation on the last results from out west. If we're lucky, we'll get the speech before we get results from Alaska and Hawaii." Sturgis chuckled. "It's crazy, man."

"Only going to get crazier, buddy." Harm sounded a little nervous near the end of his sentiment. "Did you sit in on Mike Bradley's briefing this afternoon?"

"Yeah, Jesus Harm, what the hell were you guys thinking trying to insulate the White House from that?" Sturgis chose not to go into specifics since they might be overheard.

"Hell, Sturgis, there was a group of us who wanted to just march into the Oval and lay it all out on the table but normally we were shouted down or otherwise voted down by our immediate superiors." Harm explained, trying to rationalize the last two months.

"Yeah, well a few of those immediate superiors are about to find out what exile is like." Sturgis answered sharply. "I may not know the President quite as well as you or Mac do, but I can tell that right now, he sees a few of your superiors in the same light as Judas Iscariot and Benedict Arnold. Considering that he _is_ the President of the United States, that's probably not the best position to be in."

"Sturgis, is there any chance you could tell me exactly what's going to happen?" Harm was a little weary for his job.

"Harm, you're going to want to trust me when I tell you that as of this moment, it's largely a broad strokes kind of house cleaning without a lot of specifics. We're going to have to leave it there." Sturgis tip-toed around the real facts which he knew full well.

"Alright, buddy, thanks anyway. Good luck for the rest of the night, and I hope to see you smiling when I pick up my copy of the Wall Street Journal tomorrow morning." Harm signed off the phone call and Sturgis stared down at the phone.

"You want to tell me what that was about?" Bobbi asked.

"No, I don't want to get too used to lying to people I care about." Sturgis replied ominously.

0321 ZULU

HAMPTON INN

BETHLEHEM, PENNSYLVANIA

Nails were being bitten and chomped as the next round of states prepared to come in. Kansas and Oklahoma had already been projected for the Republicans bringing their total to 22 electoral votes thus far on the night. Senator Higgs had retained his Iowa Senate seat which meant that thus far, the Republicans had retained three of their seven vulnerable Senators and only four of the races had been called thus far. Stacy had her nails digging slowly into Gunny's forearm as the two of them awaited the next set of results.

"We've got a slew of results for you here." On TV, Chris Matthews looked down at the paper in front of him. "MSNBC is prepared to call Arizona and its ten electoral votes; Arkansas and its six electoral votes; Colorado and its nine electoral votes; Missouri and its eleven electoral votes; Nebraska and its five electoral votes; Nevada and its five electoral votes; New Mexico and its five electoral votes; North Dakota and its three electoral votes; South Dakota and its three electoral votes and Tennessee and its eleven electoral votes, all for President Nathan Ross, giving him a total thus far of 318 electoral votes and re-electing him to the Presidency of the United States."

Loud cheering erupted from the crown in the Democratic War Room at the Hampton Inn. Mitch dipped Kat in a passionate ode to the old Life Magazine photo of the sailor kissing the nurse on Times Square on V-J Day. This made everyone laugh. "It looks like it's all about the South and the Senate now." Gunny whispered to Stacy as he gave her a big hug.

"Well, they still haven't called Indiana yet, which I think is interesting. The polls have been closed there for three hours; you'd think they would have a projection by now." She smiled, silently revelling in the contact. "Looks like we don't have to clean out our offices by January 20th."

"Nah, we got four more years." He slowly slinked out of the hug to look her in the eyes. "They'll call the rest of the states pretty quickly now."

"Let's hope." She replied as she watched the First Lady walk into the war room. "Congratulations, ma'am your strategy in the Plains states really paid off. That's the strongest that the party has been out there since 1964."

"Well, we were always going to lose Kansas, so that couldn't be helped." Nicole replied with a very maternal smile. "But it'll be nice to have four more years in which to really get some good things done. I know that the President's concern at the moment is with making college more affordable and with healthcare, so I imagine that the team's going to get to work on those in the First Hundred Days after the inaugural."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sure we'll all be run so ragged by May that we'll welcome summer and the congressional recess." Gunny replied with a quick chortle. Nicole took quick measure to note that the Chief of Staff's hands were on the hips of the White House Press Secretary. She was sure that her husband would find the news amusing and so she filed it away for later.

"Looks like they're about to call a few more." Gunny pointed to the screen that was airing CNN.

"Right now, CNN is ready to project Utah and its five electoral votes; Idaho and its four electoral votes and Wyoming and its three electoral votes all go to Republican Lawrence Burke, giving the Governor a total of 34 electoral votes so far this evening. At the same time, we're projecting California and its 55 electoral votes; Indiana and its eleven electoral votes; Montana and its three electoral votes; Oregon and its eight electoral votes and Washington and its eleven electoral votes all go to the President giving him a total thus far of 406 electoral votes." At Wolf Blitzer's announcement, another loud round of cheering erupted from the crowd all around Gunny, Stacy and the First Lady. "CNN is also projecting that Republican Senator Arnold Downey will retain his Colorado Senate seat."

That Senate announcement dulled the Democratic jubilations taking place; Colorado had been a bright blue star in the West for the Democrats for the better part of the last decade and to see them re-elect a Republican Senator was somewhat disheartening, even as they cruised toward the biggest Democratic landslide in a long time. "Can't win'em all." The First Lady mused.

"Only means we didn't work hard enough." Stacy replied with a quick giggle. The First Lady nodded at them and moved to other staffers in the room.

0330 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"You pent up a lot of frustration under that robe in one day on the court, don't you?" Harm inquired with wide glassy eyes. He was panting and sweating. One of the things about marrying a Marine was that she knew how to conquest and when she set her sights on something, well, it was a similar effect to being a deer in the headlights. He leaned over and placed a light kiss on the end of her nose.

"You're such a romantic, Harm." She playfully slapped him across the chest.

"No, it's just you, Sarah." He replied with a sugar sweet smile, lightly tracing the lines of his wife's olive-toned back with his eyes. The necessary compulsion to reach out and trace those same gentle curves was just far too powerful to ignore, so he extended his arms and lightly let his fingertips dance over her skin. Mac let a slow dulcet whimper escape her throat and she gnawed on her bottom lip, trying to maintain her composure as he husband continued to tease her nerves. "Oh, God, Harm do I have to tell you what to do?!" She demanded, unable to take it any more.

"Good girls ask nicely." He taunted, to his own amusement if not to hers.

"Since when have you eve enjoyed me as a good girl." Mac had decided to pursue an active strategy. She turned to face her husband instead of lying passively on her stomach.

"Mrs. Rabb, you'll be the death of me." Harm smiled mischievously.

"Yeah, but with the sex we have, what a way to go." Mac locked her hands together behind Harm's neck and pulled him over for another kiss.

"Mom! Dad!" Sasha called from the hall.

"That girl has some uncanny bad timing." Mac groaned, letting her head fall against her husband's chest. "She's your daughter, you know that?"

"She speaks Russian, has brown eyes and can tell time without a watch and yet she's _my_ daughter?" Harm replied with an evidently bemused version of his patented flyboy grin.

Mac shook her head and reached for her green fleece bathrobe. She slung her legs over the edge of the bed, put her arms into the sleeves and cinched the knot on the front of her robe. She walked over to the door and opened it. "Hey, sweetie, what's up?"

"Just thought you'd like to know that CNN says Uncle Nate is still the President." Sasha smiled from ear to ear.

"Sasha, remember when we had that talk about things that could really wait until morning?" Mac crouched down to her daughter's height.

"Yeah, mom." Sasha nodded emphatically, she watched as her mother pursed her lips. "This is one of those times, isn't it?"

"You're such a smart girl, you know that." Mac lovingly took both sides of her daughter's face and kissed her forehead. "Alright, now go to bed." Mac instructed her daughter, accompanying her tone was her own version of the soft maternal smile.

"Can I call Tim?" Sasha pleaded with her mom.

"Wouldn't the boys be asleep, Sasha? It's after 2230." Mac inquired of her daughter.

"Nah, it's a special night for their family. I'm sure they'll still be up. Please, mom?" Sasha begged.

"Fine, but only five minutes. If no one picks up when you call the first time, then you go straight to bed, young lady, do you understand me?" Mac instructed in a more authoritative way. Her daughter got the picture. Sasha nodded obediently and padded off to her room. She picked up the cordless phone in her room and immediately punched the digits that she had committed to memory. "Hello, Mrs. Ross? Is Tim there?" There was a pause while Sasha waited for the response. "Can I talk to him?" There was another pause. "Hey, Tim."

0407 ZULU

THE HAMPTON INN

BETHLEHEM, PENNSYLVANIA

Hawaii, Texas, Louisiana and North Carolina had all been called for the President while Alaska had been the last state called overwhelmingly for Governor Burke and the Republicans. Now, all the focus was on South Carolina, Georgia and Mississippi and the remaining Senate seat being as less then an hour earlier, Republican Senator Willie Costas of Nevada had lost his seat to Congressman and former Nevada AFL boss, Ernie Capetti.

The ballroom was where supporters had gathered, the President had just spoken to Governor Burke who had graciously conceded after congratulating the President on a well run campaign and a hard fought election. In reality, the numbers were staggeringly suggesting the magnitude of this landslide. The President had walked away from this election with slightly better then 60 percent of the vote; voter turnout among young people was 42 percent, well above even their wildest dreams and in large part contributing to the size of the Democratic victory as they voted 3 to 1 for Democrats today. African-American turnout was up by twelve percent and African-Americans voted 96 percent for Democrats. Latino turnout was up by nine percent and they had voted 82 percent for the President. Women had voted 64 percent for the President.

The Grand Coalition strategy that had been dreamed up the previous spring had come to a full and massive realization. There were now 61 Democrats in the Senate, with one race still yet to be decided in Kansas. There were 255 Democrats in the House, up eleven from the end of the last session and as it stood, the President could currently be on his way to the biggest Democratic Landslide since FDR's re-election in 1936. It had every one in the Hampton Inn just a little giddy as the President made his way on to the stage to deliver his acceptance speech. This was not the humble Jacksonian Democratic Governor of Pennsylvania who had delivered an emotion packed acceptance four years earlier.

This was a call to arms. Morley and Kat had been working feverishly on the speech all day. They'd run off a few other insurance speeches in case they lost, or in case it was too close to call, or in case they won the popular vote and lost the electoral vote or won the electoral and lost the popular vote. In reality, this was the speech that they all predicated that he'd be delivering, in a lot of ways, one would have expected the night to have something of an anti-climactic end, all the pundits had predicted a victory. They had all been seeing the same polling data. The exit polls earlier in the day and the mounting demands on their 'get out the vote' effort had all indicated that the youth vote was building to something of a political tsunami and the close polls in the South had provided grand notions of hope for them.

In fact, that was the hook line of the speech 'grand ideas of hope and a dream at the tip of our fingers'. In the end, what it meant was trying to find a way to create another 'New Deal', another 'Great Society'. The picture of George Washington in the Oval Office would be removed and a picture of Roosevelt would be put in its place. There was a gargantuan task ahead of them. How do you trim the fat of the federal government enough so that you can create new social programs without raising taxes? Another question would be, how do you structure the administration of that program so that it doesn't transform into a wasteful self-consuming bureaucracy?

Well, the President had allies. 255 House Democrats; 61 (prospectively 62) Senate Democrats and a White House staff raring for some tough fights, those were some great tools to have at your disposal. Gunny wasn't as green this time around as he had been during the Hundred Days of the first term. This term, he'd had four years on the job and a mountain of positive campaign experience that had made him some real connections with the freshman class up on the Hill.

As the President wrapped up his address to a cheering room and a thunderous applause, Gunny let out a fierce yawn and looked over at Stacy. "It's going to be a while before they call the last few states and that Kansas Senate Race; I'm going to bed." He stretched and let out another uncontrollable yawn. "Come get me if it's good news."

"What if it's not good news and my bed's just cold?" She whispered to him with that cutting flirtatious air.

"How would that not be good news?" Gunny flirted right back as he headed for the elevator.

0617 ZULU

THE HAMPTON INN

BETHLEHEM, PENNSYLVANIA

Gunny rolled on to his side. All things considered, this was probably the most comfortable bed he'd slept in during the course of the campaign. Getting a few hours of sleep in the wake of all today's excitement was undoubtedly the right thing to do. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours that it all seemed a little surreal. They were in the middle of something that hadn't really happened since FDR. After all, Clinton had had a Republican Congress, Carter hadn't made it to his second term, LBJ had exhausted all his good will on the Hill with Vietnam and Truman had to navigate an opposition Congress and the stalemate in Korea.

Then again, it was different reading about it in a history book than it was having an office right next to the Oval. In fact, he'd been told by his predecessor that having your Party control Congress didn't guarantee anything, because Congress and the President often had different motivations and visions but the first term had taught him that. The first term had also taught him that all politicians want the same thing, another term and with the way that the President had campaigned with the freshman class of Congressmen, he should have a lot of forthcoming good will in the First Hundred Days.

He woke up to the loud sound of hard thumping on his door. Groggily, he rubbed his eyes and dragged himself over to the door, scratching the back of his neck subconsciously. He ran a hand over the developing stubble on his cheeks and chin before letting out a monstrous yawn. The pounding on the door continued. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" Gunny shouted.

"Are you sure you want to be interrupted? I can come back later?" Stacy's slightly drowsy feminine voice came through the door.

"Not that kind of coming." He refuted as he finally reached the door. He swung the door wide and looked at her blankly. "I'm guessing it's good news?"

"No, I just felt like bugging you." She replied, her dazzling smile enticing him as she moved passed him into the hotel room. It was really hard for her to not just burst at the seams with the news she was repressing. "Georgia and South Carolina were called about five minutes ago!"

"Really?" A slow grin grew on Gunny's face. "This is fantastic!" He moved toward her to wrap her in a big hug, but there was something about her that just looked so…adorable? Was that the word for it? Her one size too small Wellesley t-shirt, her loose, drawstring pyjama bottoms and slightly tousled hair, falling loosely about her shoulders. He just, well, there was no stopping it this time. No platonic but awkward hugs, he raised one hand up to cup her cheek and dove in head first…literally. Stacy's eyelashes fell like stage curtains, but her mind was doing cartwheels. Their lips collided gently against each other; she was very receptive to his somewhat drowsy advances. Lightly, his tongue stroked against hers; she drew her hands up behind his neck and his hands came down to her hips. She whimpered slightly as the kiss dragged on but that whimper quickly turned into a moan.

When the need for air became too much, they pulled apart. "That was…" Stacy was smiling and trying to catch her breath.

"Wow." Gunny answered, trying to end her sentence.

"I was going to say great, but wow works." She couldn't quite look him in the eyes just yet without blushing feverishly.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time." He told her softly.

"Well, what the hell took you so long?" She playfully punched him in the shoulder. She had her back against the wall, waiting for him to close the gap with another kiss when they heard Charlie's familiar voice echoing in the hallway outside their open door. They just looked at each other for a few seconds until they heard his voice in the doorway. "Guys, come on, MSNBC is about to make the last call!"

The three of them rushed out of the room and down the hall to the campaign war room where more then sixty staffers had gathered in their pyjamas. The gang at MSNBC looked almost as tired and beaten up as the group of Democrats at the Hampton in Bethlehem.

"These are the two closest races of the night." Joe Scarborough announced on MSNBC. "These are the two races that were the most telling signs of what we've already experienced tonight and we're finally got results from them. First, in the state of Mississippi, with all the precincts reporting in, President Nathan Ross has won the state by 367 votes. Making the total electoral count for the night 501-37 in favour of the President. Last, with regard to the Kansas Senate Seat held by embattled Senator Dennis Lynch. The last precinct to report in was the home precinct of Democratic challenger Kevin Sullivan and MSNBC is now reporting that Kevin Sullivan will be the new Junior Senator from Kansas!"

The loud cheering and shouting seemed to wake the entire hotel. Gunny just reached for Stacy's hand and intertwined his fingers with hers.


	56. And Yet, It Moves

It was more then a week after the election. The White House seemed to be running on a new buzz of adrenaline. It was two months before the new Congress convened but certain procedural matters needed to be attended to in order to bring the first term to an end. Gunny had a few papers tucked under his arm as he moved through the Communications bullpen. At the end of the campaign, they had sent Mitch back to his post as a Professor at the University of Chicago and senior staff was settling back into the White House.

"Gunny!" Stacy called from her office door. The Chief of Staff stopped in his tracks and walked back over to the Press Secretary's office.

"What's up?" He asked her.

"Are we ever going to talk about what happened? I mean, it's been a week." She whispered in a low voice so as not to be overheard.

"Yeah, I know, and we're going to talk but the first two weeks or so after an election are supposed to be a little rough." Gunny looked down at his watch. "Listen, we're going to talk about this soon, I promise but I have a cabinet meeting that I really need to get to." He quickly put a reassuring hand on her arm before dashing off across the West Wing of the White House. Stacy shook her head and headed back into her office.

Meanwhile, Gunny was jogging toward the cabinet room. This was the meeting that no administration actually looked forward to. Ceremonially, at the end of the first term, all of the cabinet secretaries had to hand their resignations into the President, giving him the option of hiring them or not, rather then firing them or not. Gunny walked into the Cabinet room to see the Cabinet secretaries all standing around speaking with one another and the Vice President-Elect was speaking with the President. When Nate noticed that Gunny had entered the room, he decided to convene the meeting.

"Welcome to the last cabinet meeting of the Ross First Term." The President started. "I'm sure that over the last four years, at least half of you have wanted to shout at me for some reason or another but over the last four years we've accomplished a great deal that we can all be very proud of. Millions of jobs were created, we ended discrimination in the military, we stopped the ability of corporations to buy votes through 'campaign contributions' and the American education system appears to be recovering as far as our test scores are concerned. We produced two straight budget surpluses, something that hadn't been accomplished since the Clinton years and we put two new Associate Justices. Add to which, the fact that this administration has been graced with a Nobel Peace Prize and we haven't don all that bad for only four years work." The President let out a heavy breath. "I would like to see the Secretary of State in my office, but Gunny has some business with the rest of you, which will be attended to now."

The President and the Secretary of State left the room. This left Gunny and the Vice President-Elect to steer the rest of the meeting. Gunny looked at men who he never thought would be his colleagues for a second before saying his piece. "I'm going to need all of your resignations on my desk by close of business today. Thank you, gentlemen."

One by one, the members of the Cabinet got up and headed for the door. Seven cabinet secretaries had handed their resignations to Gunny on the way out, which meant that the rest would be delivered by courier before five o'clock this evening. He'd accepted resignations from the Treasury Secretary, Commerce Secretary and Attorney General, all of whom he knew the President would be asking to stay in the cabinet. The last person out of the room was the Secretary of Defence. A.J. Chegwidden produced his letter of resignation from his inside breast pocket and handed it to the Chief of Staff. The future of his job was up in the air, one day the President was in favour of accepting the resignation of his brother-in-law and the next day he was stridently opposed to it. Giving Yin and Yang some stiff competition in the contrast department seemed to be a theme with the President lately. Gunny was in favour of keeping Secretary Chegwidden right where he was, as was Vice President-Elect Turner and even the First Lady. It was only the President who wavered, which was perhaps the lesson in all this; the President didn't like to be crossed.

"Thank you, Mr. Secretary." Gunny shook the hand of his former CO.

"Talk to you later, Gunny." A.J. Chegwidden sombrely shook the hand of the White House Chief of Staff. Four years at the Pentagon had been a good tenure, the press loved his briefings and he'd proved exceedingly co-operative when it came to policy decisions regarding trimming back outdated Cold War relic systems.

1526 ZULU

ST. GREGORY'S

WASHINGTON, DC

They lost the season opener last night. Tim walked into the school with his head hung low, trying to avoid the disappointed gaze of his classmates. The Assistant Captain wore a symbolic 'A' on his coat over his heart and when they all went out for recess; he stared at it for a second before walking out into the nippy November air. It was getting colder but, it always did around this time of year. Coach had made them to extra skating this morning as a way to get them back into tune after last night's loss. The Secret Service wasn't too keen on the early morning practices but they dealt with it in stride.

He looked over and saw Brad holding court with Jack as the jester. He'd scored all three of the Capitals' three goals during last night's game, which meant that even though the team lost, Brad was still the King. Tim mused to himself, of all the brothers; Brad was the most like their dad. He could charm a room and he was always out to please as many people in the room as he could

Tim and the Team Captain, an eighth grader named Nick Hurst, took most of the flack from the student body for the loss. He felt two light fingers tap him on the shoulder. "What did you think of that math test?" The cheery bursting voice of his best friend cut through the clouds of his slight melancholy.

"About the same as every other math test, I suppose. I didn't want to take it and now I'm glad it's over." They both hated autumn. Once the leaves stopped changing colour and the grass turned brown, it became a most depressing time of year. Every kid kind of walked around like that from Halloween until Thanksgiving.

"You can't still be going over what happened last night. Tim, it's a game, it's supposed to be fun, but you won't let it be fun." She lightly smacked his shoulder.

"Well, everyone expects us to win. I mean, it was a lot of fun to stand in front of the school at the beginning of the year and watch the State Championship banner be raised to the roof." Tim couldn't help but smile. "Are you going to go to the game on Friday night?"

"Well, the girls and I were going to have a slumber party on Friday night." Sasha smiled. "We might be able to swing by the rink before we go to the theatre though."

"What is it with you girls and those sappy movies?" Tim chortled in an attempt to tread lightly on Sasha's nerves.

"And all you boys care about is blood and gore movies." Sasha tossed back sarcastically. "You do realize that if we do come by the arena on Friday, you'll have to put up with Rachel pining over Brad the whole time?"

"Well, mom always said that you have to take the good with the bad." Tim mused as they sat on the swings in the yard.

"Which am I, the good or the bad?" Sasha decided to question him.

"I think it really depends on the day." Tim answered with his damn coy grin. Sasha was simultaneously glad that she could depend on the swing chains to hold her up and annoyed that he was still trading japes with her.

"Now, is that something that a best friend would say?" She tempted him slightly with a smile. There was something in being the best friend of someone that you had known since you were very young. You could anticipate them and understand them better then a lot of people. Maybe, Sasha thought, that was why the boys got along so well. They were able to understand how far was too far when it came to pushing one another. "You three can sure be a handful, I don't know how your mom puts up with you."

"Well, she has you and several dozen maids, butlers and nannies to help her." Tim's grin popped up again, almost uncontrollably this time.

"I imagine that helps." Sasha laughed. "You ever think that we read way too much for our age?"

"Is that even possible?" Tim replied. "Sometimes, the world of books is more fun then the world we live in."

"You're the son of the President, how is _anything_ more fun then the world you live in?" Sasha look at her friend with a subtle amazement.

"Well, my dad says that the White House is basically just the best federal prison in the country. Most of the time, he's right. All I ever want to be is an ordinary kid. It's the only thing that's impossible. Instead, I make everyone around me try to keep up with me. Would your parents have sent you to a Catholic private school if it wasn't where all your friends were going?" Tim stared downward.

"Probably not." Sasha answered.

"Exactly, you're here because that's where me and all your friends were going to go." Tim silently cursed himself. "I'm sorry I've been reading The Hobbit and I've become obsessed with all that ripples in a pond crap."

"Okay, you definitely need to do something other then play hockey and read books." Sasha said as the recess bell rang.

"We've got English now." He told her.

"Yeah, week number two of _Where the Red Fern Grows_. I can hardly wait." She groaned and rolled her eyes. "You'll make up last night's loss on Friday, let it go." She gave him a quick hug. "Until then, stop brooding."

"It's in my nature, you should see my dad. King broody." Tim laughed. "Not that funny?"

"Not really." Sasha told him as they moved toward the door.

"Was worth a try." Tim smiled as they walked into the school. "But you girls are coming to the game on Friday?"

"What did I say about thinking of hockey?" Sasha lectured.

"Sorry." Tim replied.

1515 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

The President sat tensely on the edge of the resolute desk, his hand raised up to his chin. He stared grimly down upon his Secretary of State. Someone was going to need to lose their job and sadly, it was going to have to be the person highest up on the Constitutional ladder. "The most important aspect of the relationship between the President and the Secretary of State is that they both understand who is President." Nate said solemnly.

"You're going to quote Dean Acheson at me, Mr. President?" Secretary Wallace glared at her boss.

"You acted well above your authority and what's more, you knew it then whole time. As Secretary of State, you assumed the Directory position in this little scam, which means that it's your neck upon which the axe must fall." The President used his best elevated dialectic. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to both personally request and accept your resignation, Andrea."

The Secretary of State handed her resignation to the President. "With my apologies, sir." She told him, avoiding his disappointed gaze. The President took it and affixed his signature to the bottom of the page to signify his approval. "Sir, if I may ask, what will happen to the Secretary of Defence?"

As she asked the question, Gunny came walking into the office from behind her. The President measured the tone of his voice and looked to his Chief of Staff. "I haven't decided yet, but at the moment, it's not exactly looking favourable. That will be all; we'll announce your resignation at the two o'clock briefing in the press room."

"Thank you, Mr. President." The Secretary nodded and got up out of the chair. Once the door closed behind her, the President and Gunny both let out a long breath to break the tense atmosphere in the room.

"Do I need to tell you what we have to do now?" The President fell back on to the couch in the Oval office.

"Short list for a new Secretary of State?" Gunny chanced.

"Reading my mind as always." The President mused. "You know who to consult with?"

"Senate Foreign Relations and the White House Office of Political Affairs. I know, sir." Gunny turned and headed for the door.

"Don't forget the State Department itself." The President called after him.

"Oh, do I have to?" Gunny whined as he ducked into his office. He walked through the door that led to his office. There was a quick round of laughter on both sides of the door. Gunny sat down behind his desk. "Liz, who's my next appointment?" Gunny punched the intercom button.

"Heather Marshall is here to see you, sir." The secretary answered and Gunny groaned. Aside from being very easy on the eyes, Heather Marshall was an incredibly big pain in the ass. She was the Chief of Staff to the head of the Woman's Democratic Caucus which either made her the most prominent voice for women in the Democratic Party or the most powerful lobbyist for women's issues in the Capital.

"Fine, send her in." Gunny psychologically prepared himself to have to deal with this woman. He got out of his chair and stood next to his desk, the door opened and Heather walked in. At five foot nine, Heather Marshall actually made quite a sight in Washington. She had a long pair of legs, bouncing curled strawberry blonde hair and dazzling green eyes. She was one of the youngest Chiefs of Staff in the Senate and probably one of the smartest women in Washington. "Heather, nice to see you." Gunny shook her hand.

"And you as well, Victor." She smiled at him.

"Please, take a seat." He motioned toward the chair.

"Thank you." She sat down and crossed her legs.

"Now, what brings you down to this end of Pennsylvania Avenue?" Gunny was trying his best to be both collegial and professional. It wasn't often that you sat in a meeting in Washington where you had to remind yourself no to stare at someone's chest. The Capital wasn't the kind of atmosphere that was necessarily conducive to cover models, though Gunny made an obvious exception for Stacy, she was one of a kind.

"You'll never guess who I just got out of a meeting with." Heather started.

"If I begged you, would you tell me?" Gunny said sarcastically.

"Now, Victor be nice." She chided flirtatiously. "No, I just got out of a meeting with the First Lady who informed me that the Secretary of State was resigning today. See, now I took a little bit of offence to this, because not only is my boss on the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, but she also chairs the Women's caucus for the President's Party, so I expected at least a phone call on this one."

"The President is the Chief Executive, if he no longer has confidence in his cabinet secretaries, he has the right to dismiss them." Gunny told her. "I mean without the consent of the Senate."

"Considering that women just handed him 65 percent of their vote, I think the White House would be a bit more amenable to their voices. Instead, the first thing you did was remove the ranking woman from the government." Heather charged. "Considering we just handed you a massive election victory, I don't think a phone call is too much to ask."

"First, youth turn out was 42 percent, up 17 percent from four years ago and they voted 3 to 1 for the President, no offence but they handed us the victory last week." Gunny started. "That having been said, it is certainly the intention of the White House to work with all Americans and with every member of Congress as much as possible."

"Okay, now that you've got your talking point out of the way, I'm going to finish what I was saying." Heather responded. "You and I both know that Secretary Wallace was more then just a prominent woman in the cabinet, people were talking about a Presidential run in a few years or a spot on the ticket at least. If she resigns, especially under mysterious circumstances, that's a political silver bullet, it will end her career."

"At this point, the President is more concerned with the quality of advice he receives as it pertains to national security, more so then he's concerned the Mrs. Wallace's political career." Gunny replied. "That having been said, we'll consider any potential nominees you want to bring up."

"I'll let my boss know." Heather gave him a quick nod and a smile.

"Alright, that's about all I can ask." Gunny let out a sigh and hoped that this meeting was over.

"Now on another matter." Heather started and you could almost hear the groan that was rolling around in Gunny's head. "I wanted to discuss the inaugural."

"What could the Senate Foreign Relations Committee possibly have to say about the inaugural?" Gunny leaned forward over his desk. In his outer office, Stacy was talking with Gunny's secretary and waiting to speak with him about the two o'clock briefing. The door was slightly ajar to the inner office and so she could pick up bits and pieces of the sparring match about the Secretary of State.

"Oh, this has nothing to do with the Committee, I just wanted to know if you had a date." Heather chanced.

"You want to go on a date with _me_?" He couldn't possibly have sounded more surprised if he tried.

"Well, I'd like to go on at least one before then." She smiled at him sweetly. "How about this weekend, I've got tickets to _Kismet_ at the Kennedy Center."

"I think the President's going to that." Gunny tried to avoid looking her in the eye. He shuffled around the papers on his desk as if looking for the weekend itinerary. Out in the outer office, Stacy's breath had caught in her throat.

"I know he is, it was the First Lady who gave me the second pair of tickets." Heather told him and Gunny stopped looking around for the itinerary. He decided to just bite the bullet on this one.

"Listen, Heather, I'd like to but at the moment, I'm kind of involved with someone at the moment. Well, actually it's kind of in that hazy stage where you're not sure what the hell is going on. But I just can't." Gunny explained in a rambling sort of way.

"Sounds like the real thing." Heather smiled at him fondly. "Good luck with her." She got up out of the chair and headed for the door. She stopped and looked back at him. "You'll have the short list by Friday, though?"

"I think so." Gunny answered.

"Good." Heather walked out of the office.

1819 ZULU

WASHINGTON NAVY YARD

WASHINGTON, DC

"Well, the chess pieces are moving." Harm walked into Bax's office. "Dynecorp's guys are already setting up the offshore stations. It's a crash program, they're trying to get it online as quickly as possible."

"How long would that normally take?" Bax asked, putting his previous call on hold and setting the phone down in the cradle.

"A couple of months. Crash programs puts it at as early as three weeks, as many as five." Harm told him. "The employee statistics show that they're running as many Americans on this project as they are Russians, which means that Moscow has one eye on this too."

"Anything from Beijing?" Bax asked.

"I talked to the State Department there but it's like someone pushed Wile E. Coyote into a room full of Roadrunners. They haven't gotten back to me yet. Meanwhile, we've got heightened states of alert on Okinawa, constant surveillance flights and a government of Taiwan shouting at Beijing to back off. Meanwhile, both us and the Russians are quietly trying to turn a profit off of this." Harm angrily threw himself down in a chair.

"The wonders of capitalism, my friend." Bax stared at the latest report. "The Secretary of State is going to resign."

"It's a wonder as to how close resigning and being fired really are in Washington." Harm huffed. "It's great little town we live in."

"Hey, man don't blame me, I'm in the Navy and I live in Maryland, I can't be blamed." Bax raised his arms in surrender.

"Taking lessons from the French, Bax? Absolving yourself of responsibility and surrendering." Harm laughed. "Alright, we're got four subs, in the general Taiwan area right now, right?"

"Yeah, the _Jimmy Carter_, _Virginia_, _Santa Fe _and _Seawolf_." Bax told him. "We've got two carrier battle groups nearby. The Lincoln is just off Midway and Stennis is in the South Pacific."

"Any word on A.J's job yet?" Harm ventured.

"Not a one." Bax answered. "I talked to the White House a few minutes ago and they weren't completely sure what the President's decision was going to be."

"So, we've got soldier and sailors in harm's way, no Secretary of State and the Secretary of Defence is currently on the fence about whether he's going to have a job." Harm shook his head. "I'm not sure if this qualifies as contemptuous words, but the President's a friend of mine and even so, there are times I just want to kick him in the ass."

"Hey, you're just the Vice Chief of Naval Operations, imagine how I feel, I actually have to sit in the Situation Room." Bax leaned back and heaved with a laugh. "Eppur si muove, Harm."

"Pepsi wha?" Harm looked slightly confused.

"It's from Galileo about the heliocentric universe. It means, and yet it moves. Much like Washington, even though things may still seem contrary to all conventional knowledge, they somehow still work and keep working, even if it looks like Russia and China and Taiwan are all determined to knock us off our axis and send us spinning into the sun." Bax shrugged it off.

"I think you're just trying to be profound because you're married to a psychiatry major who's also a new mother and being profound and practising your profundity is going to get you sex sooner." Harm replied, trying to shirk of the somewhat depressing air which had fallen. "How are Jen and little Katie?"

"Jen's doing well, of course with the rate at which Harriet, Mac, Bobbi and my mother all stop by, she's getting a lot of coaching on the new mother front." Bax replied.

1905 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States." Stacy stood aside and the President walked up to the podium, the Secretary of State to his immediate left.

"Thank you." The President looked out upon the crowd. "Good afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen of the press, I have a short statement after which I will take questions. This morning, in accordance with tradition, my cabinet secretaries handed me their resignations. Which, in the cases of my Secretaries of Interior, Transportation and Energy, I have accepted. I was also presented with the resignation of Andrea Wallace, the Secretary of State, which I have accepted. I want to commend Secretary Wallace for her exemplary service during the first term of this administration. As of yet, I haven't decided who will fill the job. As of yet, Daren Bentley, the Deputy Secretary of State will be running the Department until such a time as a new Secretary of State can be nominated and confirmed by the Senate." The hands of the press gallery flew into the air. "Yes, Dave."

"Mr. President," the reporter from NBC started, "with the recent rising tensions in Taiwan over the reported striking of an oil deposit, isn't this the wrong time for the administration to be without a Secretary of State and chief diplomat?"

"I used to do the job, David, so it's not as if the United States will be without a top diplomat. The United States policy on Taiwan is clear, as is the United States policy on human rights is clear. We trust in the mutual interest in prevalence of peace." The President answered. "Yes, Dayna." The President pointed to the CNN correspondent.

"Mr. President, have you given any thought as to who will replace Secretary Wallace? At the moment we have rumours ranging from National Security Advisor Bradley to former NATO Supreme Commander Wesley Clark." The CNN reporter prepared to sketch the answer on her notepad.

"At this time, I'm considering a number of options for the future of the State Department. By the end of the week, I'm hoping to have a short list by the end of the week. I will be conferring with the Chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee on the selection of an eventual nominee so that we can all be assured that we have someone who's not hostile to Congressional oversight which is of course a necessary and vital part of the system." The President answered and pointed to the correspondent from CBS. "Yeah, Brendan."

"Mr. President, my question is with regard to the other resignations you've announced today." The CBS reporter started.

"He's great at controlling the message." Stacy whispered to him. If he keeps up the machismo but doesn't commit to a name, he can ride the wave for the next half hour. It was one of the great parts of their job, the President was seen as a straight-shooter, which made him more of a media darling then did being young, handsome and a Democrat. No, neither of them would contest that the media was Liberal, it wasn't. The media did the media's job; annoy the people in power regardless of who it was. The liberal media was a conservative myth. After about twenty minutes of questions, the press conference ended and the President stepped down off the podium and disappeared into the West Wing.

"I noticed that the Fox News and New York Post correspondents weren't there." The President looked to his Press Secretary for answers.

"Yes, sir, I refused to continue rewarding tabloid media with access to the briefing room." Stacy told the President.

"Well, I'm impressed." The President answered. "But they're going to be pretty angry."

"Let them get angry, sir. Until they do real journalism, or at least a distant cousin thereof, we don't have to give them access." Stacy answered, standing firm on principle.

"What newspaper are you putting in the Post's chair?" The President asked.

"The Globe and Mail from Canada." She told him.

"And in the Fox News chair?" Gunny continued.

"The Daily Show." Stacy answered.

"You're giving Jon Stewart more access then Fox News? That isn't…I don't know, maybe a little extreme, bordering on farcical?" The President was sounding weary.

"So's Fox News, sir." Stacy answered.

"Good point." The President replied, heading off toward the Oval office. "Gunny, I'm going to call Secretary Chegwidden and inform him that he still has a job. Give me about fifteen minutes and then come get me for the meeting with the Far East Advisors."

"Yes, sir." Gunny nodded.

"Alright, see you in fifteen." The President disappeared from sight.

"So, we're boycotting Rupert Murdoch's media outlets now?" Gunny questioned as they headed to the press bullpen. "We don't need to wage a media war right now."

"It's not a media war, it's a simple boycott. Until they start doing actual objective journalism, we don't give them access. If we're asked a question about it, we refer to Fox and the New York Post as 'tabloids' and refuse to acknowledge that they have anything to actually offer in the way of news or journalism." Stacy told him as they arrived at the door to her office.

"I think this is a poor use of political capital, I just want to go on record as saying that right now." Gunny told her.

"You agree with it a hundred percent and you know it." She lightly teased him, reaching out to straighten his tie.

"What are you doing?" He asked quietly.

"Straightening your tie." She told him.

"You don't think it's attracting undue attention?" He asked, looking from side to side.

"I used to do this all the time before we…well, I mean it might look more suspicious if I just stopped." She answered.

"Yeah, well, I'm just not sure it's all that wise." He told her. "Not at work anyway."

"You know for a guy who claims to want a week to straighten this place out and figure out what's happening here." She indicated between the two of them. "Your subconscious knows how to speak volumes."

"Stacy, come on." He tried to sound tender.

"No, I'll tell you what, you want space, you've got it." And with that, she headed into her office.


	57. In the Interim

It was late, later then usual even for the White House. The Oval Office had changed slightly in design from the first term into the transition. The picture of General Washington was taken down and the picture of President Roosevelt had been put up in its place. The President sat in the Oval Office, carefully scanning over the options for how to best reinforce American policy with regard to this Taiwan mess. He heard the door click that led from Gunny's office into his. The President looked up. He looked the perfect picture of the workaholic President. His jacket was off and strewn over the back of a chair; the top two buttons of his shirt were undone and his tie hung loosely around his neck. "I like the picture of Roosevelt, sir." Gunny said.

"Reminds me of my grandfather's kitchen." The President mused. "I remember when we were young and we used to go over to the house in Bethlehem and his kitchen was always so small and dimly lit. You'd have these dark pine cabinets on the walls, that tacky yellow tulip wallpaper on the walls and an old Amana refrigerator that used to hum like a harmonica. Right above the doorway that led into the living room was two things, a crucifix and an autographed picture of Roosevelt, a lot like that one there."

"I think we might have had the same grandfather, sir." Gunny chuckled. "I remember a picture like that from my grandparents' kitchen. It wasn't next to the crucifix, it hung over the stove but my grandmother would tell us about the Depression and the war, how they used to pray to God to give the President strength in making his decisions."

"When was the last time you think anyone prayed for the President like that, Gunny? Must have been Kennedy." The President set the papers aside.

"I think it was last year, sir. During the shooting at the Capitol, when no one knew whether you were okay or not." Gunny sat across the table from the President. "It took us seventy years to get from Lincoln to Roosevelt. From one giant man of noble ideas to another, do you ever think we'll see one like them again?"

"I think the American people want to, sir. I think that's why they keep voting, it's because they want their heroes, their inspirations, their icons. They want someone who can make them believe the way Lincoln did or the way Roosevelt did." Gunny reached into his pocket and he pulled out a little paperweight with a pewter face and a wooden base. "Sir, I just wanted to give this to you, sort of as a thank you for hiring me for this job, I just never thought I'd get this kind of opportunity to make a difference."

The President looked down at the paperweight. It had an engraved face of Lincoln and a quote beneath it, the President read it aloud. "Every man is said to have his peculiar ambition. Whether it be true or not, I can say for one that I have no other ambition so great as that of being truly esteemed of my fellow men, by rendering myself worthy of their esteem. How far I shall succeed in gratifying this ambition is yet to be developed." The President smiled. "Gunny, I don't know what to say."

"Your welcome, sir." Gunny answered. "Now, that's not the only reason I came in here. I've been having this problem lately with a woman."

"We're going to need the bourbon to get through this one." The President headed for his liquor cabinet.

"Sir, not everything calls for bourbon." Gunny humoured.

"That hasn't been my experience." The President poured them each a glass. He handed Gunny the glass.

"Sir, you and the First Lady were friends before you got together. How did you know when it was time to make the next step?" Gunny sipped at the bourbon.

"When the only thing I could think about all day was her, in pretty much any capacity. You'll know when it's gotten really bad if you just start having fantasies for no particular reason. The old standards seem to take on a whole new Technicolor vivacity; the desk…the couch…"

"The shower." The two of them said simultaneously. "That's one's a classic isn't it?"

"An absolute masterpiece if done right too." The President refilled their glasses. "If you repress it, it just makes it worse to the point of being unintentionally crass. I mean, you watched Harm and Mac at the pinnacle of these unexpressed feelings at JAG. Wasn't that destructive?"

"In every conceivable way." Gunny stated grimly. "You think I should just bit the bullet?"

"I think you should do what you think is right, which is ultimately what you, as an honourable man, will do anyway. All honourable men get it right eventually, if you add up the time that it took me, Harm and Sergei to get our relationships right, you'd be at well over twenty-five years combined. Some things, they don't wait around forever." The President answered.

"Morley says the inaugural is coming along well." Gunny told him.

"Always good to hear." The President walked over. "I've been working with the HHS Secretary and the Education Secretary to role out my ticket items for the First Hundred Days. I've also been talking to a few key players in the Senate and my old Governor friends on a little pet project I've got going. We need to put the full force of the White House behind this though or it's never going to get passed."

"I'll push to the best of my ability, sir." Gunny nodded, quickly raising his glass to the President. "I did want to talk to you about the Secretary of State post, sir."

"What is it?" The President looked up from the glass.

"I think we should go with Alizia Argosa. She used to be policy director for the Chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee, she's the director of Overseas Operations for a major corporation that's improved its reputation as a responsible corporate citizen since she took that job and she's a fellow at the Center for Strategic and International Studies." Gunny told him. "Plus, it a bonus for us politically, we can show that our message of inclusion in the campaign wasn't just a lot of smoke."

"You're right; you want to make the call tomorrow morning?" The President asked.

"Will do, sir." Gunny answered.

1341 ZULU

ST. GREGORY'S

WASHINGTON, DC

Practice at the rink before school was always an interesting experience for the boys. It normally meant walking into the school in sopping wet hair and smelling like some awkward combination of sweat, Old Spice underarm deodorant and Adidas cologne. Tim stood at his locker, sweeping the damp hair out of his eyes and getting his books for class.

"You guys seem to be riding a winning streak, three games and three wins in the last three." Sasha came up beside him.

"Tell that to the coach, he's working us like dogsled team." Tim groaned as he reached for the top shelf of the locker. "I think he got addicted to having a state champion team."

"You guys are good, you'll get used to it." Sasha assured him.

"Well, either that, or he'll kill us." Tim shut the aluminium door and clicked the lock. "Sorry, I know how much you hate hockey, what's up with you?"

"Not much, Tommy's enjoying first grade. My folks are doing good; they're more lovey-dovey lately, which is like so ewwww." Sasha gave her head a shake. "Hey, Brad and Rachel broke up."

"Ah yes, he wouldn't shut up about it all last night. As if a break up shows maturity." Tim mused.

"Yeah, well you didn't have to put up with crying and cursing on the phone all night." Sasha chuckled to herself. "I swear, mom's going to take away my phone when she sees this month's bill."

"Your mom was your age once, that was a long time ago, but I'm sure she remembers what it was like." Tim told her as they climbed down the stairs to their first class. "They did have telephones back then, right?"

"Yeah, I think so." Sasha answered. "We could always ask the history teacher."

"Good idea." The two of them walked past a poster advertising this year's school play. Sasha stopped to examine the poster.

"It says here that they need some stage hands." Sasha pointed to the bottom of the poster.

"Yeah, well I would but hockey takes up most of my extra-curricular time and what hockey doesn't take, homework and you seem to take." Tim leaned back against the wall.

"You're saying I'm a waste of time, Timmy?" Sasha teased him.

"No, I'm saying that you're pretty good at taking up my time when you get it." Tim answered, in something of a jumbled sentence. "So's the homework, who would have thought that fifth grade would be this tough?"

"Says the kid with an A+ average." Sasha answered in something of a deadpan.

"I said it was tough, I didn't say that I don't understand it." Tim grinned. "Are you going to apply to help them? I mean the play doesn't go on until June."

"Yeah, I've thought about it." Sasha told him as they moved toward the classroom again.

"Well, they're doing _Sleeping Beauty_, so it's not as if it's high drama or Broadway or something." Sasha laughed. "If they were doing, I don't know _Phantom of the Opera_ or something like that, then I know I'd be in over my head."

"Considering that you're not even four feet tall, there isn't a lot that isn't over your head." Tim laughed and put his hand on top of her head to demonstrate his point.

"You think you're so funny." She taunted.

"Well, I try." He replied with a grin and she felt her toes curl ever so slightly.

"Come on, we're going to be late for class, buddy boy." She pulled him by the sleeve into the classroom.

1516 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

"Any calls for me while I was at the Justice Department, Liz?" Gunny asked his assistant.

"A dozen Congressmen, four Senators and the VA Secretary." She told him.

"Tell them to call back?" Gunny asked.

"Already did." Liz replied. "Ms. Argosa has been waiting in your office for the last sixteen minutes for her appointment."

"Only sixteen minutes behind at ten o'clock? That's like being an hour ahead of time, Liz." Gunny pushed through the door and into his office. Alizia Argosa was a very prominent woman in the Mexican-American community. At five foot five, she was hardly the imposing female presence that Secretary Wallace had been or that Justice Rabb was. She had dark raven hair and darker eyes. "Alizia." Gunny shook her hand when she stood up to greet him.

"Victor." She replied. "I was a little surprised to be called, I have no idea what the White House could possibly want with me."

"Youngest communications director in MAPA history, policy director to the Chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee, CSIS fellow and a Overseas Operation Director for a Fortune 500 Company, to say nothing of the fact that you're a Democrat. The President wants to nominate you to be the Secretary of State." Gunny settled into his chair. "I'm here to present you with the offer because we typically don't put the President in the room with anyone until he's sure that they'll accept."

"So, you're here to feel me out to see if I'm interested?" She questioned.

"Basically." Gunny affirmed.

"Do you have any idea how much money I make doing what I do now?" She asked him.

"It's going to make me want to puke, isn't it?" Gunny retorted.

"No, you'll actually puke." She told him.

"So, you can come work for a government wage and serve the country. Not to mention putting your membership in the Democratic Party to some long overdue exercise." Gunny pressed, trying to make the sale. Alizia paused to think for a second.

"How did you know that I was a Democrat?" She asked.

"The FBI works for my boss." Gunny answered. "We went through a long roster of registered Democrats with international policy experience. Are you onboard?"

She paused to think yet again. "Yeah, count me in." She answered with a smile. Gunny grinned and got up out of his chair.

"Come with me, please." He motioned to the side door in his office and he pushed it open. The door opened into the Oval Office, Alizia stood there suddenly taking in the wonder of the room. The office once held by Kennedy and Truman and Roosevelt seemed to light up from the sun outside of its windows gleaming in. The President stood with his back to them. He looked much the same man that he had the night before, a man uncomfortable with conformity to the dress code of a businessman. His jacket was off, his tie hung loosely about his neck and the cuffs of his shirt were rolled all the way up to his elbows. The receiver for the phone was pressed between his shoulder and his ear. He turned around and greeted his Chief of Staff with a smile. He pulled a football that had been given to him by the NFL Commissioner a few years ago off of the windowsill and tossed it at Gunny.

"Yes, Mr. Prime Minister, well I look forward to working with you too. Alright, give my best to your wife." The President hung up the phone. "The Canadian Prime Minister wanting to talk about fishing rights in Juan de Fuca"

"Yes, sir, well not everything about this job can be glamorous." Gunny tossed the ball back. "Sir, I would like to introduce you to Alizia Argosa." The President reached out and shook her hand.

"So, are you going to be my new Secretary of State?" The President asked.

"If I can get through the Senate, yes sir." She answered. "Sir, I've observed that, well I mean that the media seems to have pointed out that well, you're stocking your cabinet like it's Noah's Ark, sir."

"That's certainly an interesting way of putting it." The President chuckled.

"I'm not trying to be provocative, sir, it's just a simple statement of fact. You started off with more white faces in the cabinet room then at a Country Club Brunch and now the HHS Secretary, the HUD Secretary, the Attorney General and the Vice President-Elect are all African American; the Secretary of Education is a Indian American; the Secretary of the Interior is a Native American and rounding it out you now have a Hispanic Secretary of State and Chief of Staff." She pointed out.

"So, there are less old white guys in the cabinet and you're complaining about that fact?" The President looked slightly confused.

"No, sir, just trying to decide whether or not this is an actual attempt at changing the face of America or just a bunch of token appointments. A lot of people are sick of the government pretending to do something and then reverting to its old ways when things get tough. If we're going to make progress, let's actually make progress." She contended.

"Now, that's what I want to hear." The President's smile quickly returned. "I spoke with the First Lady; she'll be handling getting you ready for your confirmation hearings in front of the Senate."

"Isn't that a little outside of the First Lady's usual sphere of influence?" Alizia questioned.

"You're obviously never met my wife." The President grinned. "She's insistent upon being more Eleanor Roosevelt and less Bess Truman during this term. She's even taken to writing a biography on Eleanor Roosevelt; she figures as First Lady she'll have access to documents and a mindset now that no other biographer has ever had."

"It'll be nice to work with her, sir." Alizia smiled fondly.

"I'll remind you that you said that when the confirmation's over." Gunny told her.

1910 ZULU

WASHINGTON NAVY YARD

WASHINGTON, DC

"Attention on deck!" The yeoman called out as Sturgis moved into the OpNavs office. The Vice President-Elect and his Secret Service detail actually were quite an imposing sight.

"Mr. Vice President." Harm greeted his old roommate. "That's going to be really hard to get used to."

"Tell me about it, I thought it was tough when people used to stand up and call me 'Admiral' when I entered the room." Sturgis laughed. "I came here to see what the latest news is on Taiwan. I'm the White House Liaison on this one until Dynecorp gets that offshore station online."

"Yeah, well the _Santa Fe_ picked up the presence of a Russian Akula-class submarine in the Taiwan Strait, so Moscow seems to consider this thing to be almost as much of a wild hair as we do." Harm took a seat behind his desk. "We've got the _Lincoln_ on indefinite shore leave in Pusan, South Korea and we've returned the _Washington_ to Okinawa; right now, _Stennis_ is floating around in the South Pacific somewhere between Aceh and Sydney right now."

"I don't see China or North Korea being particularly enthused about those carrier deployments, especially since if we know that Russian subs are in the area, then chances are the Chinese know they're there too. They'd also probably be a little nervous about our ability to rain down the wrath of God on them on a moment's notice with a third of the Air Wing of the Pacific Fleet." Sturgis theorized. "Please tell me that's all we know."

"Not exactly." Harm exhaled hard. "The President has ordered the _USS Boxer_ and _USS Bonhomme Richard_ to leave port at San Diego within the next three weeks. _Boxer _is going to join the _Lincoln_ and the _Bonhomme_ is going to do what _Stennis _is doing and cruise the South Pacific."

"Isn't the Commander of the Pacific Fleet about to retire, I mean he's overage by a few weeks, right?" Sturgis inquired.

"Yeah, the papers go out in two weeks. In the interim, Keeter will have provisional authority over the Pacific Fleet." Harm explained. "That's kind of scary, the man with the theatre command amidst rising tensions with China is Jack Keeter." Harm shivered humorously.

"Yeah, well the President thought that the more noticeable vacancy at this point might be the fact that we had no Secretary of State. Which we do now, or at least a nominee anyway." Sturgis told him. "She's not a professional diplomat, but she's got international business experience, so she knows how to get things done in countries like China and Japan."

"That'll be a plus on this one." Harm picked a pen up off his desk. "Any word on when someone's going to go light a fire under the Army's ass on this one?"

"The White House has me headed over the Pentagon to talk to the Secretary of the Army right now. The Air Force is going to begin reconnaissance flights over Taiwan and the adjacent Chinese province on the mainland later this week in anticipation of heightened PRC security measures." Sturgis told him. "You have to remember though, the Navy and Marine Corps are America's 9-1-1 service because we're the most rapidly deployable."

"My grandmother used to tell this great little joke when anyone would ask her about politics. She'd say, Democrats want a smaller military and they want to send it everywhere, Republicans want a big military and they don't want to send it anywhere. Sometimes I wonder if building up our presence in the Pacific isn't provoking a conflict more then it's deterring one." Harm looked down at the oaken top of his desk. "You'll convey my force readiness assessment to the President?"

"I will." Sturgis gave a quick pat to the arms of the chair. "How's Mac's first full term on the bench."

"Sometimes, I think she wants to tear her hair out at the roots and just scream but the rest of the time, she seems to be doing alright and enjoying herself." Harm gave a quick laugh.

"You should have seen Bobbi during her first Senate term, the synonyms that she had for incompetent, there's no way she hadn't committed a thesaurus to memory." Sturgis laughed. "I definitely empathize, buddy."

"Give'em hell over at the Pentagon." Harm cheered.

"I intend to." Sturgis replied.

2141 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

"Gunny, can I talk to you for a second?" Nicole caught up to the Chief of Staff as the two of them walked through the corridors of the West Wing.

"Sure, Mrs. Ross." Gunny nodded.

"Oh, for God's sake, Gunny. You can call me Nicole, you're my husband's Chief of Staff. You probably spend more time with him then I do." She slugged him in the shoulder in a friendly way. "Any chance I might be able to borrow someone from senior staff to help with the confirmation hearings for the Secretary of State?"

"Sure, would Kat O'Leary do?" Gunny asked.

"Kat worked on Justice Rabb's confirmation hearings in front of the Judiciary committee, right?" The First Lady asked.

"Yeah, she did a first rate job." Gunny answered.

"I know, I've never seen a nominee take on Senators like that and I've been in Washington for a lot of nomination fights since 1993." They stopped in front of the door to Gunny's office.

"How's your biography on Eleanor Roosevelt coming, ma'am?" Gunny decided to switch topics.

"Pretty good actually. I've got her early life up until her marriage to Franklin completely written and I'm sending it off to the publisher this week." Nicole crossed her arms. "Are you comfortable with me being involved on this side of the building, I don't want it to seem as if I'm stepping on your toes."

"Nicole, after the rabbit that you and the Vice President-Elect pulled out of the hat for us in the South three weeks ago, you think I'm going to complain if you take a more active role? I'm surprised that the President doesn't nominate you to be the Secretary of Energy or something." Gunny grinned. "You're a welcome part of the team any time you want to set foot in the West Wing, ma'am."

"Thanks, Gunny." The First Lady smiled brightly. "We're going to start the work tomorrow, I know the President would like to get her confirmed by the Lame Duck Congress so, that's what we're aiming for. I talked to Heather Marshall over at Foreign Relations, she's convinced her boss to convince the chairman to schedule a hearing, so I have three weeks to get a nominee ready. Can we have the Roosevelt room?"

"We're actually using it to go over a few things with Treasury this week, ma'am. You can use the East Wing, I'm sure though." Gunny advised her.

"Probably a more congenial atmosphere anyway." The First Lady clapped her hands together. "Anyway, thanks for the assistance on this one. What's Nate meeting the Treasury brass about?"

"He's got this elaborate First Hundred Days agenda planned but I have no idea what the specifics of it are. It's like Frankenstein in his laboratory planning to solve all of society's woes and the rest of us think he's just developing a new dandruff shampoo." Gunny chortled. "I have a feeling that we're going to get a briefing on it some time in the next month and everyone's going to wonder where he gets his ideas from."

"My husband's general problem is that he reads too many books. It creates this disease of grand ideas and then he wants to put the power of the Presidency behind all of them. What did he talk about specifically?" Nicole crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Something about healthcare, another thing about college and then something about a pet project that he had talked to the Democratic Governors about." Gunny replied, shaking his head slightly from side to side.

"Well, all that would require finding some money to do it. No wonder he's sitting down with Danny Proper and the boys at Treasury." Nicole looked down the hall into the Communications bullpen. "Like I said, thanks for the help."

"No problem, ma'am." Gunny replied and the First Lady headed off back to the East Wing. Gunny decided to head off down to the Communications bullpen now that he had all of six minutes free before his next meeting. There was a long overdue conversation that needed to be started right now. It could be finished at a later date but the important thing right now was that they started talking again. On his way through the communications bullpen he ran into Kat. "Hey Kat, in additional to the inaugural, you're going to be working with the First Lady on the Argosa confirmation for the next three weeks, alright?"

"Anything you say, boss." Kat answered with a quick nod. "I'll have to hand more of the speech off to Morley though."

"Do what you need to. For the next three weeks, the Argosa confirmation is the number one priority, we need a smooth confirmation under the old Lame Duck Senate, then we can head into the new Congress with a head of steam." Gunny told her as he headed toward Stacy's office. He tapped on the door and seeing that it was open he pushed it open a little more. Stacy was standing face to face with a rather imposing man. There was considerable daylight between them but there was also evidently considerable tension. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"What? Uh, no sorry." Stacy seemed to finally clue in that he was there. The man turned around to go face to face with Gunny.

"Hey, you're Slava Klinkov, right?" Gunny asked, moving into the room a little more.

"Kalnikev." The man corrected in his heavy St. Petersburg accent.

"Right, whatever, you play for the Capitals, right?" Gunny asked.

"I used to, I tutor hockey for the President's sons now." He answered, his thick baritone seemed to resonate off the walls. "I'm actually an old friend of Stacy's."

"Uh huh." Gunny nodded suspiciously. The silent battle of wills engaged between the two men reached and abrupt conclusion when Gunny, an imposing figure in his own right, crossed his arms and fixed a glare on the Russian.

"Well, I'd better be going." The Russian moved toward the door, retreating hastily.

"Just like the Russians, when facing an American; a tactical retreat." Gunny mused.

"Your silent pissing match was certainly interesting, of course it was both humiliating and degrading as well." She lectured.

"Well, I'm not the one playing hide the borscht with the washed up Russian hockey player." He charged, his typical dry south-western humour coming through rather then a biting accusation.

"He's a friend of mine." She defended harshly.

"You used to date." He stated as though he knew it to be fact.

"Yes, but that's not an issue. Why does it matter to you anyway, I have no idea what you want from me." She told him, softening her tone. "About all I know about what you want is for me to not date other guys, but I don't know why you want that. Can you please tell me?"

She was trying to pin him down. Whether he liked it or not, they were having the conversation but it wasn't the way he pictured. "I just want time, that's it. I want time to get through confirming a new Secretary of State, Taiwan and most of the transition. I want time to make a decision because we don't get a lot of that in our jobs, so I figured it would be a nice thing to have. Is that so bad?" He questioned, running his hand hard through his hair.

"No." She sounded calm. "You want time, like I said, it's all yours." She moved past him and out of her office. He raised three fingers into the air and counted down three seconds. Sure, enough, she came walking back into the office. "This is my office, you leave."

2405 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

"Nathan, Sergei is sitting in the outer office waiting patiently." Nicole came walking into the Oval Office.

"I know, he had a 6:30 appointment." The President was reading the latest reports on alternative fuels from the Energy Department.

"It's 7:05." Nicole pointed to her watch.

"I think he's trying to get up his nerve to actually talk to me." The President chuckled.

"Mr. President, Captain Rabb wishes to see you now." Nate's Executive Secretary told him through the intercom.

"Thank you, Betty; send him in please." The President set his coffee mug down and looked toward the door. Sergei was dressed in his midnight blues, his white cover tucked under his arm. "Nice to see you, Captain."

"You too, sir." Sergei came to attention.

"At ease." The President waved him down. "Now, you made an appointment with me, just what did you want to discuss. You may sit by the way." The President indicated to the couch. Nate and Nicole sat down together, across from the young Marine.

"Thank you, sir." Sergei nodded and took a seat. He twiddled his thumbs nervously trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "Sir, I came here to ask you a question."

"Sergei, I can't give you a raise, only Congress can do that." The President joked.

"Uh, yes, sir." The nervous young man wrung his hands. "Well, sir, I uh was thinking about something and I, uh, came to a decision. I wanted to do it right, you see. Well, you're the Anna's oldest male relative that doesn't live in Pennsylvania."

"Sergei, calm down, take a deep breath and speak slowly." The President said in a reassuring tone.

"Sir, I want your blessing to ask Anna to marry me." Sergei blurted out.

"Well, that's very old fashioned of you." The President was smiling openly.

"It's very sweet, Sergei." Nicole reassured the Marine who was waiting patiently on an answer.

"You realize that if you ever hurt her, the 101st Airborne work for me, right?" The President asked, just to fulfill his protective older brother quota.

"Oh, yes sir." Sergei nodded enthusiastically.

"Then my blessing upon you and your house, young man." The President replied, his paternal tone taking over. "Since, it's the responsibility of the bride's family to pay for the wedding, I think I might be able to contribute one thing to the festivities. Why don't you have the wedding here?"

"Here? As in the White House here?" Sergei felt like he had choked on something that wasn't there.

"Yeah, sure, I'd be willing to bet that there's nothing like it." The President advised his prospective brother in law.


	58. Like Wyatt Earp and Doc Halladay

"Gunny, I need to talk with the President." Mike Bradley came walking into Gunny's office while he was on the phone.

"Mike, we've got a pretty full day today, but I think I can fit you in at 12:50 this afternoon." Gunny looked down at that day's itinerary.

"No, you're not hearing me. I _need_ to speak to the President, right now. If I don't speak to the President right now, and I speak to him later, he's going to be shouting at me and at you about why this was brought to his attention immediately. So, let me in." Mike crossed his arms as few members of his NSC staff walked into the Chief of Staff's office.

"Just let me see what I can do." Gunny put his phone call on hold. "He's in a meeting with Commerce right now, but if it's an emergency, I'll go break the meeting up." Gunny got out of his chair and walked into the Oval Office. "Excuse me, Mr. President but I've got something which requires your immediate attention, sorry Mr. Secretary." He looked to the Secretary of Commerce.

"Not a problem, Gunny." The Secretary stood up and did his suit jacket up. The Commerce team got up and walked out of the office.

"What's the emergency, Gunny?" The President walked over to his desk.

"I don't know, sir, but Mike Bradley's in my office hopping up and down like he has a full bladder." Gunny informed his boss.

"Alright, let him in." The President motioned toward the door that led into the Chief of Staff's office. The President tossed off his jacket, he had the feeling that he was going to need to relax and do so quickly. The National Security Advisor barged through the door the moment Gunny opened it. "Good morning, Mike."

"Good morning, Mr. President." Mike replied.

"What's the emergency, Mike?" The President asked. The National Security Advisor snapped his fingers at one of his deputies to set up enlarged satellite photos. "Sir, late last night, the People's Republic of China began a series of operations to bring Dong Feng 31-A missiles into operation on their coastal bases in the Fujian Province. These missiles have a range of 4,350 miles, but it's not their range that we have to worry about, because they're going to be pointed right at Taipei."

"Oh, son of a bitch." The President sunk down into his chair. "Gunny, get me the Secretary of Defence, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the Director of the CIA, the actual Joint Chiefs and the Commander of the Pacific Fleet."

"Sir, just one problem with that." Gunny stated.

"What's that?" The President looked slightly exasperated.

"There is no Commander of the Pacific Fleet at the moment, he retired last week almost a month after his mandatory retirement age." Gunny informed the President.

"Well, then after the Senate vote this afternoon and the adjourning of the Congress for the term. I'm going to make a recess appointment to fill that vacancy. I want to know the minute that the Congress has adjourned." The President lent considerable edge to his tone.

"Understood, sir." Gunny nodded and headed for his office.

"Mr. President, they're also setting up launch sites for Silkworm anti-ship missiles. This endangers our Naval presence in the area, obviously." Mike indicated to the Silkworm sites on the picture.

"I'm more worried about them attacking Taiwan, not us. The Chinese Premier has to know that if he fires on our boys, I'll bring the hammer of God down on him." The President answered. "He's just posturing though, there's no way he goes from zero to nuclear on this one in the space of a few days."

"Sir, this is Taiwan, the Chinese take this particularly problem very seriously." Mike told him.

"I am the last person to whom that needs to be pointed out, Mike." The President leaned back in his chair. "We've got the confirmation vote on the Secretary of State this afternoon, so until then we're going to work on containment rather then engagement."

"Yes, Mr. President." Mike answered.

"That having been said, I'm going to make necessary preparations to assert our position in all of this." The President got to his feet as Gunny re-entered the room. "Gunny, when the members of the Security Council get here. Tell them to meet me in the Situation Room. Then get our Ambassador to the United Nations on the phone."

"Will do, sir." Gunny replied.

"Well, Mike, looks like we're settling in for a shooting match at the OK Corral." The President clapped his hands together. "I do have one question though."

"What's that, sir?" Mike inquired.

"What is it about the free world that pisses the rest of the world off?" The President asked as the two of them headed for the Situation Room. Back in the Chief of Staff's office, Gunny was moving out of his office toward the Communications bullpen. His walk had some serious purpose and determination behind each deliberate step.

"Stacy, I need to talk to you." He motioned toward her office and she followed him into it. He looked her right in the eye as the door closed behind them. "Listen, I need you to stay close for the next few days or however long. Charlie's still out of town for the next two weeks and I need someone close by on this one; I need a Deputy."

"What's going on?" She asked.

"I can't exactly tell you that." Gunny answered, trying not to look her right in the eye. "Do you have some way you can actually stay close to the White House for the next few days?"

"Yeah, the couch in my office pulls out." She whispered.

"It pulls out? Just how much did you have in your decorating budget?" He asked. "Never mind, would you have any objection to camping out there for a couple nights this week. Not necessarily tonight, though." He clarified, trying not to give too much away.

"Not really, but you do realize that eventually you're going to have to tell me what's going on and someone's going to have to brief the press if I can't do it this week." She told him, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Alright, one last thing." Gunny let out a hard breath. "I know the last month has been rough with the transition and confirming four new cabinet secretaries and all that jazz and I want to…I don't know, let you know that once we've got the time, we're definitely going to talk about this."

"Okay." She smiled weakly. He stepped closer and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I mean it." He told her before turning toward the door. "Now, I have to make a bunch of phone calls to a bunch of guys would are going to swear at me for a wide variety of reasons. See you later?"

"You'd better." She was smiling much more openly now.

1718 ZULU

ST. GREGORY'S

WASHINGTON, DC

The day after a hockey game at St. Greg's was almost as hectic and raucous as the day of the game; especially when they won. Last night's win had been really sweet because they had beaten their cross-town rivals at St. Domenic's in an 8-1 route where Brad had scored five goals and supplemented those with two assists. When he walked into the school the next morning, he was everyone's hero. Tim walked over to Sasha who was standing with Jimmy Roberts. "I see King Bradley is addressing his subjects." Sasha laughed.

"Seven points in one game is good reason to be happy." Tim countered.

"What is it with you guys and hockey; you'd think it was the only thing in life that matters." Sasha groaned with frustration.

"You mean it isn't?" Tim joked with a smile. "Nah, Brad just likes beating St. Domenic's."

"Again, why the target fixation?" Sasha decided to use a little of her dad's pilot lingo.

"Beating St. Dom's is like beating up the school bully. Beating St. Dom's 8-1, is like beating up the school bully, yanking down his pants in front of all the girls and then telling of his old man when he demands that you apologize." Tim answered. "It's just a lot of fun."

"You guys have an odd idea of fun." Sasha just shook her head.

"Well, we try." Jimmy finally decided to get into the conversation.

"Oh Jimmy, not you too." Sasha complained.

"Of course he's one of us. Jimmy's a part of the team." Tim put the Roberts boy in a playful headlock.

"He's the waterboy." Sasha deadpanned.

"And if you'd ever logged seventeen minutes of what is basically sprinting on skates, you'd know how badly we need water." Tim told her as they moved toward his locker so he could get his books.

"Okay, even if that's true, why is Brad acting more like……well, Brad than usual?" Sasha inquired, looking somewhat curious.

"He's been watching Steve McQueen movies at home. He's been spending the last week trying to get us to call him the 'King of Cool'." Tim laughed to himself as they reached his locker.

"Please tell me you're kidding." Sasha crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"How I wish I was." Tim closed the door. "I think Jack's really hoping that this passes before Brad tries to hop the White House fence on his ten-speed."

"Has anyone in your family actually started calling him by that nickname?" Sasha asked as they headed to class.

"Well, dad has but I think it's just to humour Brad." Tim answered, tucking his books under his arm. "On the plus side though, as long as he's on this Steve McQueen speed kick, no one's going to be able to catch him on the ice, so I guess it helps the team."

"Is there some reason that you try to find the good in every situation lately?" She asked as they ducked into class.

"Not really, I suppose Christmas might have something to do with it. If I'm good I might get more presents." Tim tossed her a quick grin and she responded with a silent curse. She was really going to have to get over this stupid crush thing. Between homework and hockey, Tim didn't need to put up with her having a crush on him. And now that she was in the play, she didn't have a lot of fun time either. So, why the crush? The question plagued her all through math class as she stole passing glances at her best friend.

2115 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

The Senate had voted to confirm Secretary Argosa a little more then half an hour earlier and then the President Pro Tempore officially gavelled the 112th Congress out of session. The new Secretary of State had been rushed over to the White House immediately after the 51st yay vote had been tallied on the Senate floor. The President was meeting with the National Security Council in the Situation room when she walked in. "I'm guessing that this has something to do with oil in Taiwan?" She asked as she came through the door.

"And the strategic relocation of parts of their nuclear arsenal to the Fujian Province." Mike Bradley indicated to the satellite images projected on the screen.

"And the Secretary of Defence informs me that for the last ten days or so, we have been effectively without a four star commander of the Pacific Fleet. This is disturbing on any number of levels, primary of which is that it takes you that long to process a resignation, AJ." The President added quietly.

"Sorry, sir." The Secretary replied.

"But right now, that's not our primary concern. Sabre-rattling by Beijing over Taiwan tends to make people nervous, I think we all know that Seoul and Tokyo are at the top of that list. Now that American and Russian civilians are factors in the equation, the world's two biggest nuclear stockpiles also have skin in the game. We've got reports of Russian subs in the area, we've got the _Lincoln, Washington_ and _Stennis_ all in the area to deal with this and the _Boxer _and _Bonhomme Richard_ are also on their way. Of course, the _Essex_ is stationed in Sasebo, Japan; so it's already there. We also have three submarines in the area." The President took a breath.

"Are we trying to provoke a Chinese reaction?" Alizia asked. "Because if so, we've taken all the right steps, Mr. President."

"We're trying to indicate that they're not going to fuck us around on this one. The One China Policy is an excuse to oppress people who have no genuine want to actually be a part of the regime of Beijing. We deny them recognition and autonomy because it's convenient for us, it's bullshit and someone needs to call Beijing on it." The President answered. "I can negotiate with dictators but I will under no circumstances aid one if I have the option."

"That's a noble sentiment, Mr. President but we're walking a dental floss tightrope on this one and the Chinese take Taiwan very seriously. They're probably going to assume that you're bluffing." The Secretary took a seat at the table. "What's the biggest worry at this moment other then the fact that we have no Commander for the Pacific Fleet?"

"Right now? That Taiwan conditions access to their new oil reserves upon full diplomatic recognition as a state. If not that, then our biggest worry is that Beijing does some damn stupid thing like attack us or the Russians." The President threw the brief on to the table and rubbed his eyes. "Gunny, I want you to get someone on a plane to Washington, he's an expert in China's relations with her more autonomous provinces."

"Alright, sir, who do you want me to call?" Gunny moved toward the phone.

"Sir Roger Hendley, he's the Earl of Farthinghamshire or some silly thing like that." The President answered but a groan could be heard from the Secretary of Defence.

"You don't like him Mr. Secretary?" Gunny turned to the former JAG.

"He's a loon." A.J. answered.

"He's perfectly fine in small doses." The President responded.

"He's lecherous, uncouth and hits on any woman in sight." A.J. argued. "He also drinks like a fish."

"He knows more about China than any of us do." The President countered.

"And just how do the two of you know this man?" The Secretary of State intervened.

"He's my second cousin, once removed." The President answered. "He was also the last Governor of Hong Kong when it was under British rule."

"I'm on it, sir." Gunny headed for his office to make the call.

"Until then, AJ, I want you to call up the captains of the _USS Nevada _and the _USS Henry M. Jackson_, tell them to get it together and wait for my order." The President answered. "The hope in all this people, is that China sees the presence of a third of the Pacific Fleet as proof that we're not fucking around and they need to back off."

"Yes, sir." AJ nodded and reached for the phone on the table.

"Okay, Danny, if China decides on economic rather then military repercussions against us for getting them to back off, what are we talking about?" The President looked to his Treasury Secretary.

"Thankfully, less of a doomsday scenario then it would have been five years ago, Mr. President. Under the previous administration, it had been a borrow and spend trade off with the PRC but our surpluses and fiscal management of the first term have largely rectified that situation. Where we're most vulnerable is our multi-nationals. If the PRC gets aggressive with multi-national presence on its shores, it could reverse the momentum in the DOW's recent spike and drive us down four or five hundred point in one day's trading and there's no telling whether we'd recover on the second day." Danny Proper answered.

"What are our options for dealing with this?" The President inquired.

"Well, if we get word that they're going to do it, we could suspend trading and have the fed chairman call all the major funds and intercept the shockwave. We might lose more precipitously that way and it would be easier to slow down. The other solutions are political and really outside my purview, sir."

"Thanks, Danny." The President answered. "Mike, your best guess, how likely is it that this thing escalates?"

"Somewhere in the realm of 'pretty fucking likely', sir." The National Security Advisor answered. "I think they're slightly more pissed off at the Russians right now then we are, though."

"Why's that?" The President asked.

"Because only fifty-six Americans are working on the Dynecorp project in the area right now, sir. INS has held up authorization for the rest of them citing National Security reasons." Mike answered. "The wonders of a few lingering Patriot Act clauses."

"Yeah, most of the time I want to repeal them but damn it if they don't come in handy at times like this." The President grumbled as he got out of his chair. He looked up at the picture of Southeast Asia on the screen and focused on the position of the carrier battle groups. "You really think it's going to get bad, Mike."

"More a question of when and how bad than if, sir." Mike told his boss.

"Yeah, alright." The President looked over at Secretary Chegwidden who had just gotten off the phone with San Diego. "A.J, call OpNavs and get Harmon Rabb over here at the soonest possible."

"Yes, sir." The Secretary picked the phone back up and put it to his ear as he dialled the numbers.

2317 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

Admiral Harmon Rabb walked the corridors of the White House with Tom Boone at his side. "All these years and we're back at a conflict in Southeast Asia." Tom mused as they made their way toward the Situation Room.

"Taiwan was going to blow up eventually." Harm stated quickly.

"Harm, your dad would be damn proud to see you here with four stars advising the President. I know I never told you that but he always talked about how you were really going to make something of yourself." Tom decided to switch topics. Harm had been notably stand-offish since the initial incident involving the driller ship intelligence.

"Thanks, Tom." Harm took a pause. "That means a lot."

"Yeah, well let's get in there. If the world's going to hell in a handcart, it's not going to wait for us." Tom once again switched his focus. Tom ran his ID card through the scanner and the doors slid open.

"I'll never get used to that, it's like Star Trek." Harm chuckled. "I think I've been hanging around Bud Roberts for too long."

"Yeah, we're going to talk about more important things than that right now." Tom instructed him. They encountered the President and the rest of the National Security Council waiting for them.

"What the hell took the two of you so long?!" Gunny demanded, in a stern tone.

"We were told to drive over here in the middle of rush hour. You're lucky that we got here as fast as we did." Tom Boone answered as he made his way to his familiar seat at the end of the table. Harm went to take a chair but the President intervened.

"Harm, don't get too comfortable, you're not going to be here very long." The President warned.

"I don't understand, sir." Harm looked somewhat puzzled.

"I've been informed that I am at the moment without a Commander for the Pacific Fleet. I think you would agree that this is a pretty shitty time for that to happen so I'm appointing you, during Congressional recess, to that post. In about thirty seconds, a car is going to pull up outside and take you to Andrews Air Force base, from there, you're going to hop a transport out to Pearl Harbour. I realize that it's short notice, and you can call Mac from the car or the plane or whatever, but right here, right now the country has to come first." Nate sank into take charge mode, it was a state of being Harm had been familiar with since he'd first met the man.

"What would you say to someone who told you that about your family." Harm answered in a whisper so only the President could hear.

"Harm, I'm the President of the United States, the American people tell me that everyday." The President answered. "It's a demand that can be made of damned few men but you're one of them and now you're the Commander of the Pacific Fleet."

"Yes, sir." Harm nodded.

"Tell him what we've got, Mike." The President turned to the National Security Advisor.

"Satellite images indicate that the PRC is moving three DF-31A missiles to coastal bases in Fujian." Mike told Harm.

"Why the hell would they move three? One of these things leaves a blast crater a kilometre wide and kills everything in a seven mile radius." Harm looked at the photos.

"They don't actually intend on using them." The President told him. "They just figure that if I see them, I'll back off and stop lending silent support to Taiwan."

"Far more concerning to us is the weapons that they could use." Mike pressed a button and the pictures of the Silkworm missile sites came on to the screen.

"Anti-ship missiles." Harm stated without needing to be told. "Hell of a way to ruin a flight-deck."

"Right now, both us and the Russians have stepped up our presence in the region. Our prevailing economic worry at the moment is that South Korea and Japan will start putting in bids on the oil once that offshore station is online. The project is already heavily nationalized out of the Taiwanese government." Danny Proper jumped in.

"On a military level, we're hoping that the Chinese don't do something stupid like take a shot at one of our ships, or the drilling platform or a Russian sub. At this point, cooler heads prevailing isn't completely out of the question and we'd like to keep it that way." The President finished up. "But this is Taiwan, which makes it easily the most unpredictable international situation in the world."

"Sir, would you prefer I assume command from the base at Pearl or should I use the bridge of one of the carriers?" Harm asked, his eyes trained upon the President.

"Use your best judgement." The President answered. "The Deputy at Pearl is Jack Keeter, so at least you'll have someone that you can trust at your side."

"Yes sir." Harm nodded.

"You'll get a briefer from CIA on the plane who'll plug you into some of the more intricate elements of what's going on right now." Clayton Webb finally decided to talk. It was hard to believe that he'd known Harmon Rabb for sixteen years and that the two of them had gone from chasing down Clark Palmer to being top advisors to the President of the United States. "Good luck and for God's sake don't break anything."

"Thanks, Webb." Harm headed for the door. He'd noticed that General Fitzpatrick was still in the Situation Room but considering the military scope of what was going on, his presence seemed slightly reduced. It was surprising that the Chairman was still there, Harm expected him to have been canned but the President was nothing if not reasonable and with the rising tensions in Taiwan, it wasn't the time to ask for the resignation of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

The White House usher led Harm out to the ellipse where a staff car was waiting for him. Harm nodded to the elderly man before getting into the car. Once the car had passed the White House gate, Harm pulled his cell phone out of his inside breast pocket and dialled up the house. "Rabb residence." Sasha answered.

"Sasha." Harm smiled, the image of his daughter's face passing through his mind. "Put your mom on the phone."

"Okay, daddy." She replied, he could almost hear that smile of hers through the phone. The phone was silent for a few seconds and in the background he could hear his daughter shuffle her way through the house to find Mac. He heard the phone change hands.

"Hey, Harm what's up?" Mac sounded slightly rushed.

"Listen, Mac, I don't have a lot of time to talk right now. I'm on my way to Pearl Harbour, it's an emergency and I can't tell you exactly why. I have no idea how long I'll be out there and I don't know how frequently I'll be able to call home." Harm basically blurted out all at once.

"Okay, if we weren't well beyond that point in your career, I'd ask what Clayton Webb did now." Mac chuckled.

"Well, actually Webb has something to do with it but not in the way he used to. He is the CIA Director after all." Harm tried to muse.

"Harm, I know you can't talk about anything specific, but just answer one question for me." Mac chanced, sounding just the slightest bit vulnerable if not scared.

"Anything, babe." He replied tenderly.

"How high's the water?" She asked.

"Eye level." He replied. "And rising."

"Okay." Mac closed her eyes for a quick second of quiet introspection. On the other end of the phone Harm could see those same eyes that had given him such comfort in his life for so long. "Harm, I love you."

"I love you too, honey." Harm replied, exhaling heavily. "Let your Uncle Matt and mom and Frank help you a little more now, okay?"

"I have a feeling that I'll be seeing more of Beverly Chegwidden, too." Mac forced a smile to her face. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"No worries, I'm going to be working with Keeter on this one." Harm replied, trying to get a rise out of her.

"Do you want me to sleep at night?" Mac replied. "The two of you tend to attract trouble when in the same room. At Sturgis' wedding you almost lit the church on fire."

"I keep telling you, we didn't think that the drapes were that close." Harm laughed along with her. "Mac, just tell the kids that I'm on a special tour or something, I don't want Sasha or Tommy having nightmares, you know?"

"Yeah." Mac nodded. "I really do love you, you know that?"

"Honey, if you never told me again, I would always know." Harm answered.

"Damn it, Harm." Her voice broke. "Why of all times do you pick _now_ to be all sweet?"

"Just the kind of guy I am, I guess." He answered. "I'll call you when I get to Hawaii. Love you."

"Love you, too." She answered.

0201 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

The President took a reprieve form the confines of the Situation Room and retreated into the Oval Office. He stood there with Gunny, sitting on the edge of the resolute desk, staring down at the eagle on the carpet in the middle of the floor. "I always thought we'd fight a war over oil, you know that?" He looked up at his Chief of Staff. "I wrote whole essays on it back in school but I thought it would happen in Iraq or Iran or even Latin America, I never thought that it would blow up the Taiwan problem."

"Sir, you once told me that being President isn't about having the right answer all the time. It's about having the right answer when it counts and the best answer the rest of the time." Gunny looked at the President.

"Alright, bring in whoever you deputized for Charlie's job on this one, it's about time we get some politicians in on this one." The President told his Chief of Staff. Gunny walked over to the door which led to his office and waved Stacy in. "The Press Secretary is the Deputy Chief of Staff this week? Then who's going to brief the press?"

"Kat." Gunny answered. "She knows what she's doing."

"Let's hope." The President replied. "Alright, the two of you need to call up the Gang of Eight and tell them what's going on. Maybe a few of them haven't left Washington yet. Start with the Party leaders in the House and the Senate and then do the Intelligence Committee chairs."

"Yes, sir." Stacy nodded.

"Gunny, get the Vice President in on this. I know he was spending the day with the NAACP up in Philadelphia but he's a former Navy Admiral and having him in on this would be really helpful." The President motioned for the door.

"Mr. President, the National Security Advisor to see you, sir." The President's Executive Secretary called through the intercom.

"Send him in, Betty." The President replied, punching the button. Mike Bradley burst through the door like a man on fire. "Mike, what's the trouble?"

"Mr. President, the Chinese just fired on a Russian sub." The NSA handed the President a communiqué.


	59. Oil and Water

"Holy Mother of God." The President looked down at the page. "This is true, right? Because I don't want to jump the gun and start throwing guys into headlocks who haven't done anything wrong."

"Yes, sir. A torpedo strike leaves a very distinct sonar signature that was picked up on the _USS Santa Fe_ a little more then two hours ago and was radioed into Pearl Harbour about a half hour ago." Mike began to explain.

"Why the long delay between the strike and the radio communication?" The President asked.

"The sub needed to get out of range of its Chinese counterpart and then surface, sir." Mike cracked his knuckles nervously. "Pearl radioed the message to us."

"How do we know that the Chinese sub was the one that launched the torpedo, though? I mean wouldn't a Russian torpedo hitting a Chinese sub sound just like a Chinese torpedo hitting a Russian sub?" The President asked, his arms crossed.

"Well, yes sir, but we have pretty good evidence that it was a Russian sub that was hit." Mike Bradley started. "About twenty minutes ago the _Stennis _picked up about twelve Russian submariners that were just floating in the South China Sea."

"Well, that's pretty good evidence of…hold up a minute. The South China Sea? What the hell were Russian and Chinese subs doing that far south of Taiwan where, presumably, all the action is happening." The President began to pace the floor.

"The CNO thinks that the Chinese sub was sent out there to hunt and kill a Russian sub, that's the only explanation for it in his mind." Mike Bradley took a seat on the couch.

"You've got a different explanation for it?" The President chanced, sitting down to face his old friend.

"I just think it's too aggressive. Beijing hasn't given us any indication in the past that they want to end the world, why would they start now?" Mike asked. "It's not adding up, why would they attack another nuclear power without provocation?"

"They don't want us fucking around in their backyard." The President ran his hands through his hair.

"Yeah, but now Russia's going to respond." Mike told the President. "The problem with shooting your neighbour's mutt when he digs up your backyard is that your neighbour's going to want to kill you."

"What do you think, Gunny?" The President turned to his Chief of Staff.

"First, I want to know what the hell causes someone to think that a measured response is sinking a submarine, most people are satisfied with just shooting down planes." Gunny started. "Sir, Mike's right. Something ain't adding up. I think the military's making decisions that the Politburo doesn't know about."

"I think I need to call the Russian President before he decides to go kamikaze and blow half the world to hell." The President indicated for Gunny to set up the call. "I don't like this, Mike."

"I don't think any of us do, Mr. President." Mike leaned forward. "None of us want another Cold War."

"The Russians aren't going to like this, but I'm not sure that Nikolai's response is going to be limited to a retaliatory military strike or if it's even going to be a retaliatory military strike. I think we have to start talking about what if he decides to recognize Taiwanese independence. Because if he does, he's going to drag Ukraine, Moldova, Belarus and half the former Soviet republics in the Caucasus and Central Asia with him. Then the Chinese have a big problem because now Taiwan has some international street cred." The President got up off the couch.

"Sir, the Russian President is currently unavailable. It's four in the morning in Moscow, sir." Gunny came back into the room.

"Well, someone better fucking make him available!" The President shouted. "For fuck sakes, I can only try and stop so many wars in the eight years I have in this office, I could use a little help." The President realized that might have been a tad conceded and went to correct himself. "Sorry, Gunny but right now I think I could punt a puppy dog over the Washington Monument, I'm that pissed off."

"It's alright, sir." Gunny assured the President.

"Get the Chinese Ambassador in my office as soon as possible." The President directed.

"Yes, sir." Gunny headed back into his office.

"And will someone please get me Harmon Rabb?!" The President shouted, hoping his secretary would overhear.

0241 ZULU

NAVY GULFSTREAM

SOMEWHERE OVER MISSOURI

"Admiral Rabb, I've got a message for you on the comm." Harm's CIA briefer tapped him on his shoulder. Harm walked to the back of the plane for a satellite uplink to the White House Situation Room.

"Mr. Secretary, how can I help you, sir?" Harm put the headset on his ears.

"Harm, you might want to sit down for this one because we just got some real bad news in from Rear Admiral Keeter." A.J. inhaled sharply. "Roughly two hours ago, the Chinese fired on a Russian sub in the South China Sea. Before the sub sank below crush depth, they were able to jettison a two mini-subs, outfitted for their out of use missile tubes. The _Stennis_ picked up twelve Russian submariners."

"They must have packed those guys in pretty tight." Harm commented. "Is STRATCOM consulting with the President about raising the DEFCON level?"

"General Banner has gone to consult with the President now. To my knowledge, the Vice President-Elect is being shuttled back in from Philadelphia because the President wants a submariner in on this." A.J. rubbed the top of his head. "If we raise the Defence Condition, it's going to set off alarm bells at NATO and the UN."

"As if sinking a Russian sub hasn't already roused both the Secretaries General out of their respective dreams and flying back into reality. How the hell has the President managed to keep the Russians and the PRC from blowing themselves to Kingdom Come so far?" Harm inquired.

"The fact that it's four in the morning in Moscow and the Russian President is his old college roommate probably helps. He's meeting with the Chinese Ambassador in a few minutes; needless to say you know what your first order of business is when you touch down at Pearl is, right?" A.J pressed his question with an inflection of urgency. The tension in the Situation Room was easily reaching new heights of insanity.

"Yeah, I'm going to have to make sure that all our skippers know just what the hell happened and tell them to keep their ears up for any Chinese subs cruising around. Then I've got to make sure that we get up to date AWACS on the progress of those missile sites in Fujian and send them back to you guys." Harm answered

"Yeah, have the squads on the _Lincoln_ and the _Stennis_ step up flight ops too." A.J instructed.

"I already planned on handing down that order after I consulted with Admirals Keeter and Flagler, sir." Harm was starting to feel the natural results of age sneaking up on him as he let out a yawn.

"Harm, you've got like five hours before you land, get some damn sleep. I'm sure someone will wake you up if someone does some damn foolish thing like insisting on starting World War Three." The Secretary of Defence advised.

"Yes, sir." Harm nodded drowsily.

0330 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

"Mr. President." The Chinese Ambassador was a taller, lankier man with flecks of grey in his dark hair and his small bifocal spectacles perched academically on the end of his nose.

"Mr. Ambassador." The President shook his hand and the two men sat across from each other. "You'll have to excuse me for dispensing with the pleasantries but just what the hell is going on in Beijing that you would decide to sink a Russian submarine."

"You'll have to excuse me, Mr. President but that's a very serious accusation." The Chinese Ambassador charged, unwilling to let the presence of the man opposite and his surroundings intimidate him.

"And one that my Ambassador would have no trouble backing up in front of the United Nations Security Council." The President volleyed back.

"As you know, Mr. President, we consider Taiwan to be an internal matter and we do not like outside parties meddling with our internal politics." The Chinese Ambassador settled in on the couch, his hands folded neatly in his lap.

"The sub was sunk in the South China Sea, miles from Taiwan, Mr. Ambassador. As I'm sure you're well aware, that's hundreds of miles from Taiwan, which leads me to deduce that that sub was hunted." The President was tempted to get out of his chair and tower over the Ambassador, with all the presence that came with being a six foot three former Marine. "Now, here's another chance. Just what the hell is going on in Beijing, Mr. Ambassador?"

"Mr. President, both the United States and the Russian Federation have stepped up a presence in the region of the Taiwan Strait without provocation or without a request for aid from any party." The Chinese Ambassador countered.

"Our ships are in international waters, Mr. Ambassador. As such, their mobility cannot be restricted. Now, I'm going to need a little co-operation here, because someone needs to prevent you two from killing each other and the rest of the world in the process." The President actually got to his feet this time, his long shadow draping the moonlit room.

"With all due respect, Mr. President, the United States is hardly a neutral party. You sell arms to Taiwan and as we speak right now, it is an American company that is helping the rebel government exploit an oil deposit with the intention of extorting recognition out of the rest of the world." The Ambassador had obviously been a skilled political operative back in China because he was doing an excellent job walking the Party line so far.

"Your government just gave the Russians a reason to recognize them, Mr. Ambassador. I'm asking for you to give me a reason so that I can call the Russians and tell them to hold off but you're not willing to co-operate with me. Can it be that you actually want to see the lives of billions dancing on the edge of a knife? Are you really that careless?" The President asked. "Give me a reason."

"Mr. President," the Ambassador got to his feet, "if I may be permitted, I will return to my embassy and call Beijing to see what can be done. There are good men in the world Mr. President let us hope they are still able to achieve peace by peaceful means."

"Let us hope." The President replied. The Ambassador left the office and the door shut behind him. "That son of a bitch!"

"What, sir?" Gunny turned to face his boss who had his hands on the desk.

"He had the Party line all ready for me when he came in here. They knew what had happened before we even called him over here." The President turned away from looking out the window behind his desk to face his Chief of Staff. "Jerry Flynn is our Ambassador to the United Nations, right?"

"Yes, sir." Gunny affirmed.

"I want you to collect evidence on the submarine strike and send it over to him right away. Jerry's going to bring it up at the Security Council on Monday if I can't bring China to the table then. Any good chance at getting the Russian President on the phone inside the next hour?" The President crossed his arms. "I've known the man for twenty-five years but I'm not sure that I like the idea of him having a few thousand nuclear weapons pointed at China."

"At least they're not pointed at us any more, sir." Gunny tried to alleviate some of the tension.

"That's of some really small consolation." The President muttered.

"Sir, the President of Russia on line one." Betty opened the door to the Oval Office and stuck her head in the door.

"Thank you, Betty." The President told his Executive Secretary. Nate punched the speaker button on the phone. "Evening, Nikolai."

"It's morning here, Nathan Danielovich." Nikolai replied through a yawn.

"Nikolai, I'm guessing you know what happened. I need you to not blow anything up for the next twenty-four hours, alright? I think we can both agree that two nuclear powers going eyeball to eyeball is probably a bad thing. Outside of that, I don't wish to interfere in your internal matters but I need you to not blow anything up." The President explained.

"Nathan Danielovich, as a responsible world leader I too have no desire to drive this situation to a most dangerous precipice and will take all measures within my power to avoid doing so but we must mount a proportional response to this aggression by China." Nikolai had a very firm streak in his tone.

"I understand that Nikolai and there are some very strong diplomatic and economic options open to you but I just need you to not kill anyone while there's still a chance to head this thing off at the pass." The President replied, looking for some hint from his old friend that he might be able to hang his hat on.

"As I said, I have no wish to start World War Three." Nikolai replied firmly. "I must go now, Nathan Danielovich."

"I will talk to you later, Nikolai." The President ended the call. "That's why I'm glad there are people I can depend on in this world, Gunny. Folks like us; we just want to make the world a better place by the time the sun comes up tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." Gunny smiled wisely. "It's 2320, sir."

"Yeah, it's late, I'm going to bed." The President gave Gunny a pat on the back. "Why don't you take the Lincoln bedroom, just in case someone decides to blow something else up tonight?"

"Alright, you get Sports Center in the Lincoln bedroom, right?" Gunny asked.

"Yeah, I think so."

0406 ZULU

CAMP H.M SMITH

HALAWA, HAWAII

Jack Keeter stood there waiting for Harmon Rabb. There was a communications problem between the Pentagon and the Pacific. Harm was coming here to run the United States Pacific Command not just the Pacific Fleet. In a way, Jack Keeter felt a weird sense of history. There was one great thing about Hawaii and it was the pretty constant summer weather of being in paradise. The black staff car made its way up to the main administrative building where Rear Admiral Keeter was standing.

"Admiral Rabb, great to welcome you to the Camp Smith, sir." Keeter fired off a salute and came to attention with that crooked smile of his.

"Nice to see you as well, Admiral Keeter." Harm fired off a quick salute of his own. "Has the situation changed in the last hour?"

"Not really." Keeter answered. "Those Russian submariners that we picked up are starting to talk though. Which was a bit of a trial because we didn't have any Russian speaking personnel on the carrier so they needed to call one in from elsewhere in the carrier group."

"Well, what do we know? What have they told us?" Harm asked as they moved toward the office of the PACCOM.

"Basically what we expected, Russia decided to downgrade some of their ballistic submarines after the Cold War ended. Apparently, they've sort of done a take off on our program with the mini-sub and the SSGN class." Keeter told his new boss. "I sent your message out to the fleet skippers to be on watch for Chinese subs but the skippers of _Lincoln _and _Washington_ are a little apprehensive about running AWACS with China so on guard."

"They don't want our planes getting shot down?" Harm asked as he tossed his cover on a hat rack.

"You could say that, sir." Keeter answered.

"Washington needs more focused pictures, Keeter. The ones they've got are sixteen hours old and they're satellite photos." Harm explained. "I want those planes up in the air and have _Lincoln_ step up flight ops."

"Yes, sir." Keeter nodded. "Nice to be working together, buddy?"

"Damn sure is." Harm answered. "It's also great to know that we got two of our closest friends in the Situation Room now with the Vice President and the CNO."

"Always good to have friends with the ear of the President when you're in the field putting men in the line of fire." Keeter affirmed as he headed for the door.

"Keeter, we've got two Marine Expeditionary Units in the current hot zone, right?" Harm settled into the chair behind his desk.

"Yeah, the 11th on the _Washington_ and the 31st on the _Lincoln._" Keeter answered. "We've got the base commanders at Zama, Kadena and Butler on alert in case we need them."

"Well, let's hope that the Navy can handle this, I'm not sure that I'd want to drag in the Army and the Air Force." Harm chuckled slightly. "Check in with the skippers and then get some sleep, I'll talk to you in the morning."

"Hey, Harm, you got a place to sleep tonight?" Keeter was standing in the doorway.

"There's a couch in the office." Harm pointed to the maroon leather couch in his office.

"I'll wait up for you; you can use the guest room at my house." Keeter offered. It wouldn't take too long to call the skipper of the _Lincoln._ In anticipation of Harm's arrival, the other two had already been called. Harm looked over the latest force readiness assessment that had been placed on his desk – likely by his new yeoman – in anticipation of his arrival here at the base. Harm was really hoping that the President wasn't going to give him the order to put boots on the ground; he really didn't want to see the United States get mired down in Southeast Asia again. In a way though, they'd been mired down in Taiwan for sixty years. He remembered a quote from his Academy years; it was by Marine Commandant Wallace M. Greene who said about Vietnam that "we're up to our knees in the quagmire". It was depressing to think that Greene said that in 1963.

"Come on, Harm. Let's get going." Keeter tapped on his door.

"It only took you three minutes to call the skippers?" Harm asked.

"It was five minutes and I had already called two before you got here. Now, come on, let's go. I need some damn sleep." Keeter tapped on the door with his cover. "By the way, buddy, you're going to want to start wearing your summer whites because the blues get awful damn hot around here."

"You've been exiled out here for five years; you don't miss the East Coast at all?" Harm asked as the two men moved back out his car.

"Harm, Hawaii is paradise. No offence, but snowy Virginia doesn't really compare to sun, sand and grass skirts." Keeter grinned as he hopped in the white jeep.

"You know, Jack, you're a two star; you can get a staff car." Harm mused as he fell into the passenger's side. "You live off base?"

"I live on the beach." Keeter replied as he cranked up the radio.

"Typical Keeter." Harm chuckled and shook his head. "No new girlfriends this month?"

"President send you out here to be my mommy too, Harm?" Keeter asked.

"Just saying, Bax got married before you, how the hell did that happen?" The two of them had to laugh at the truth of that comment.

1234 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

Gunny walked up to the coffee machine in the communications bullpen. "Are you going to tell me why I slept in my office last night?" She met him at the coffee machine. Gunny pointed up to the TV that was showing CNN.

"Usually when Russia flaunts sixty years of diplomatic protocol, it's worth keeping you overnight." Gunny tapped the CNN ticker which read _'Russia grants temporary diplomatic recognition to Taiwan'_. "Kat here?"

"On her way in, stuck at Dupont Circle again." Stacy told him. "Why are you here so early on a Saturday?"

"Spent last night in the Lincoln bedroom, as a precaution in case someone in the Pacific decided to blow something up." Gunny sipped at his coffee. "On the plus side, I got to use the White House gym, which is always cool."

"I bet." Stacy poured herself a cup. "You think it's fair to Kat to throw her into the briefing room to deal with this on her second day?"

"No, it's not fair. But Morley is way too confrontational with the press, you know too much about what's going on to tell the press and Charlie hasn't gotten back from the west coast yet." Gunny started to move toward her office with her. "The President had a talk with the Chinese Ambassador last night and the Russian President."

"Anything resolved?" The two of them stood in the doorway to her office.

"No, I think I'm going to be in the Situation Room for most of the next week trying to talk everyone down." He whispered right back. "Did you get in touch with key members of Congress?"

"I got in touch with the Senators McLaren and Maher; I was also able to track down the Speaker before he got on a plane at Dulles but I couldn't get the Minority Leader." She explained. "I left a message with his district office and they said they'd try and get a hold of him."

"The Senators and the Speaker coming in later today?" Gunny looked over her shoulder at the sun rising outside her window.

"Yeah." She nodded at him. "Is there some reason that this is a little awkward?"

"We're the only people in the communications bullpen and it's quarter to eight in the morning." He told her. She reached out and straightened his tie.

"I'm allowed to do this, right?" She looked impishly up into his eyes. "Just because it's a Saturday around the White House doesn't mean you can't look good."

"Well, not all of us can be like you and roll out of bed looking stunning." He smiled at her.

"You're just trying to get on my good side." She flirted.

"Is it working?" He chanced.

"Slowly." She whispered. "But you have to get to work and so do I."

"Work on a Saturday, ain't life grand?" He mused sarcastically as he turned and headed out of the communications bullpen. He paused for a second and turned to look back at her. "How about watching Saturday Night Live tonight in your office?"

"I think I'd like to go home." She answered. "But if we're still here, I don't see why not."

"I'll talk to you later." He smiled fondly again.

"You'd better." She replied. As Gunny made his way to the Oval Office, he ran into Mike Bradley in the hallway.

"Jesus, Mike don't you ever leave here during a crisis?" Gunny asked, surprised to see the National Security Advisor lurking around.

"Showered, shaved and slept for three hours before coming back to work." Mike strode alongside Gunny. "I just got an intelligence brief from Langley on the Taiwan situation."

"You mean to tell me that Clayton Webb actually went home last night? That's something I find hard to believe." Gunny joked as they headed for the Oval.

"You and me both." Mike answered. "We're starting AWACS flights over Fujian this morning."

"The Chinese aren't going to like that." Gunny turned a corner toward his office.

"I think we're a little more concerned with how close those DF-31A missiles are to being operational. I know Admiral Rabb is worried about the Silkworms." Mike Bradley walked with Gunny through the Chief of Staff's office and into the Oval.

"Good morning, sir." Gunny saw the President sitting behind his desk in a grey Princeton t-shirt and a pair of jeans, reading the Washington Post.

"Morning, Gunny." The President got up out of his chair. "What have the two of you got for me this morning?"

"An intelligence brief from Langley and news from PACCOM that they're going to run AWACS on Fujian this morning to get better pictures." Mike Bradley handed the President the brief.

"What do we do if the AWACS aircraft are fired upon?" The President looked to his National Security Advisor.

"Well, first let's pray that they aren't. Second, if they are, then rules of engagement are up to you to lay out but typically we'd take out the site that fired on them." Mike answered.

"Alright, so it seems to me that the first thing we do is set out rules of engagement then we send them out to Harm at PACCOM. At some point today, we should bring in the Congressional leadership and make sure that they know what's going on." The President looked to Gunny.

"Already talked to Stacy about that this morning, sir. The Senate leaders and the Speaker are still in Washington but the House Minority Leader and the Intelligence committee chairs were already back in their districts." Gunny shuffled the clipboard from under one arm to under the other.

"Well, get Sam, Ron and Ed in my office by noon today, alright? Then I want a meeting with the Chiefs on Pacific force readiness. I'm going to want to talk to Jerry Flynn in New York some time today too." The President directed. "Have a few guys over at Langley compose our case against Chinese aggression because I want Jerry to have the evidence when he stands up at the United Nations Security Council meeting on Monday."

"Yes, sir." Gunny finished making notes on his clipboard and headed off to his office.

"It's a hell of a way to end a first term, Mr. President." Mike mused.

"This is not the time to make a joke about going out with a bang." The President retorted.

1615 ZULU

CAMP H.M. SMITH

HALAWA, HAWAII

"AWACS are up in the air." Keeter walked into Harm's office. "From here on out, it's really just a matter of time."

"Well, let's hope that someone does something smart before time runs out." Harm didn't life his eyes from the paper in front of him. "I got a phone call from Gunny this morning. He said the President was on the phone with former General Powell."

"Colin Powell? Really?" Keeter sounded taken aback.

"Yeah, he says the President wants to do a quick rundown of the Powell Doctrine. The basic idea of which is don't be so God awful arrogant or heaven forbid stupid to get the country involved in a war without an exit strategy, without having exhausted non-violent options, without a clear, attainable objective and without significant international support." Harm answered. "Considering that we're talking about China and Russia, I think that's reasonable."

"Yeah." Keeter nodded.

"You'll get back to me when the AWACS get in?" Harm pressed his Academy buddy.

"Will do." Keeter headed for the door.

"Jack!" Harm called from his desk as Keeter disappeared behind the door. Harm had flipped on the TV to CNN. "You might want to come take a look at this." Keeter walked into the office to see the first live pictures of students rioting on the streets in Hong Kong.


	60. My Standard of a Statesman

_A/N: Our schedule is about to get absolutely crazy until about the twenty-eighth of the month. If we manage to put out any updates between now and then, it will be nothing short of a miracle. We plead for your patience because there's still some good stuff coming in this story, oh yeah, and there's the third story in the trilogy once this story's over. Just stick with us._

"_A disposition to preserve and an ability to improve, taken together, would be **my standard of a statesman.**" _

_- Edmund Burke (1791)_

"Holy hell!" The President had the remote control in one hand and his arms crossed as he watched the stunning images on CNN with the Congressional leadership. "Well, they're going to have People's Army tanks coming down on them faster then fucking rain in Seattle. Get Gunny in here!"

"Mr. President, we can't just sit by and do nothing." The Republican Senate Minority Leader urged.

"Don't you think I know that?" The President replied, his voice lined with rage. "It's different with Taiwan, Ron, because it's arguably a sovereign country under threat of aggression. Hong Kong is a Chinese province, it's an internal matter that I can only interfere with if Ambassador Flynn walks into the Security Council on Monday and gives one hell of a performance to get the French on board. The French are notoriously unreliable in these situations, you see, because they sell fucking weapons to China!"

"Calm down, sir." Speaker Jordan went to step in.

"Sorry, Sam." The President waved the man off. "So, after having gone to the United Nations, and failed, I have to find someway to extort the French into voting with the issue the next time Flynn brings it up. So, I'll call the Ambassadors of Saudi Arabia and the UAE, and a few other OPEC countries into my office and I'll tell them that I need them to threaten to jack up the price of oil for the French. In return for this, they're going to want me to sell them weapons, which they will then use to brutally oppress their own people. So now, I'm selling guns to Arabs so that they can do to their people exactly what I'm trying to stop the Chinese from doing in Hong Kong."

"You're worried about looking like a hypocrite, sir?" Senator McLaren took a seat on the couch.

"No, I'm worried that I won't be able to look myself in the mirror." The President retorted as Gunny walked into the office. "You seen the pictures from Hong Kong?"

"They're plastered all over CNN. I just got off the phone with Jerry Flynn who's half out of his mind trying to figure out what the hell to say if they convene an emergency session this weekend. Clayton Webb has half the analysts at Langley compiling evidence around the clock on this one." Gunny threw himself down on the couch next to Senator McLaren. "The Russians aren't going to like this happening so soon after they extended diplomatic status to Taiwan."

"Especially considering that probably caused it." The President mumbled. "There've been factions of the society in Hong Kong who have never been crazy about the idea of answering to the boys in Beijing. Guess they figured that they'd stage their own Tiananmen Square."

"Well, this is kind of the Oliver Stone version of it." Speaker Jordan commented.

"Sam, I may need to call and Emergency Lame Duck session of Congress. Do you think you can get us back in session?" The President inquired.

"Absolutely, sir." The Speaker moved toward the door. "I ought to head over to Rayburn if we want to get everyone here by Monday."

"Yeah, sure." The President nodded. "Ed?"

"I called most of the Democrats I knew would still be in town last night and told them to stick around. That puts us at twenty-two. I told my staff to start calling the other thirty-seven before I got here this morning, so I imagine that most of them are trying to find flights right now." Ed answered. "I couldn't get a hold of Keane, Wyatt, Playfair, O'Brien, Morris, Pollack, Easton, Paulson and Morgan last night but they're all within driving distance of D.C."

"What about you, Ron?" Nate turned to the Republican Senate Leader.

"Went through the same thing last night. I was able to get twenty-four of my Republicans on the phone and my staff's tracking down the other seventeen right now." Ron replied. "What would you be asking us to consider, Mr. President?"

"I would be asking Congress for the permission to authorize the inclusion of force in diplomatic overtures. Just so this doesn't end up like the Gulf of Tonkin, I promise both of you now, that if force should become absolutely necessary, I will come before Congress seeking separate authorization for that." The President moved over toward his desk. "Ron, I need to talk to Ed but Gunny will get in touch with you once we've heard back from the Speaker, alright?"

"Yes, sir." The Republican headed out of the room. The door shut behind him.

"You know, I was impressed with the way you and Sam weaned that Social Security solution out of Andrew Russell during the last term of his Presidency. That was some impressive stuff." The President sat on the edge of his desk.

"Yeah well, you and twenty-eight Democratic Governors getting in front of cameras in front of the Lincoln Memorial and saying that if the federal government failed seniors, the Democratic Governor's Association sure as hell wouldn't." Ed laughed. "It sure wasn't easy saving FDR's legacy."

"Yeah but damn it, Ed, you did it." The President smiled. "How would you like to see the Nate Ross version of the Great Society? Better yet, how would you like to take that girl to dance in the Senate?"

"I'll do what I can, Mr. President." Ed smiled. "You're gonna go for the jugular on healthcare and education, aren't you?"

"You're goddamn right, I am." The President smiled. "I'm also going to shoot for the freakin' moon on alternative energy but some Democrats might not like my methods all that much. I've had DARPA working on a Manhattan Project style effort to find an economically feasible way of producing a viable ethanol engine. They tell me they're close. I've also had Danny Proper and the boys at treasury in a discussion with British Petroleum trying to work out a deal that would so bust the balls of Chevron, Texaco and Exxon that they'd have no choice but to jump on the alternative energy bandwagon."

"Mr. President, count me in." The Senate leader smiled.

2002 ZULU

CAMP H.M. SMITH

HALAWA, HAWAII

"We got the AWACS in." Keeter walked into Harm's office. He slapped the photos down on Harm's desk. "Looks like they've got guys working around the clock on it."

"Well, you can afford to when it on an Army base." Harm commented as he reviewed the photos. "What do our missiles experts think?"

"Seven days for the DF-31A missiles, two for the Silkworms." Keeter took a seat opposite Harm. "Gives the boys in Washington one hell of a timeline. In two days, they've got missiles that can scare off our aircraft carriers."

"Unless the Russians are looking for a little vigilante justice. I'm not saying that they'd be stupid to go after Chinese silkworm sites; I'm saying that the likelihood is that there's a chance at pre-emption to prevent the Chinese from taking out Russian or American ships in the Taiwan Strait." Harm put his hand on the picture. "That's a hell of a crash program."

"Isn't it though." Keeter squared his shoulders. "Keep the copies, I sent the originals off to Langley about a half hour ago. I imagine Clayton Webb is running his scrawny WASP ass up the Beltway to the White House as we speak."

"Webb's alright, it's good to have qualified people in place for once." Harm got up out of his chair. "Even if Webb's missions had a success rate only slightly better then the NMD shield."

"There've been some successes with the NMD." Keeter pointed out.

"Yes, and much like Webb's missions, even though there were some successes, they failed most of the time and were a colossal waste of money." Harm walked toward the door. "53 billion dollars." He muttered under his breath.

"A time like this and you can knock the missile shield?" Keeter asked as they moved toward the war room.

"Fifty years of the Cold War, the most heightened tensions that the world had ever seen and we never launched a nuclear weapon or had one launched against us. MAD is a much better deterrent than the NMD." Harm's long strides were outpacing Keeter.

"In an age of global terror…" Keeter started but Harm turned toward him and cut him off.

"In an age of global terror, the threat isn't from an ICBM; it's from a dirty bomb in a crate on a ship in Boston Harbour." Harm countered. "In which case, MAD is still a better deterrent. NMD can't protect us but the sure retribution of themselves and everyone they care about be killed in a raging torrent of nuclear fire is sure to make anyone think twice."

"Good point." Keeter answered.

"Thank you." Harm pushed the door open. "What've we got?"

"Large storm front bearing down from Manchuria on Matsu and Quemoy." Harm's Air Force aid, a Captain named Sanders, answered. "It's going to hammer the islands and probably the straight as well."

"We got any surface vessels in the Strait?" Harm turned to Keeter.

"Moved them out once we heard." Jack crossed his arms in front of his chest. "SOP."

"Yeah." Harm nodded. "What kind of storm are we talking about Captain?"

"Pretty good one, sir. 65-75mph winds and the storm surge is going to be abnormally high if it maintains its present course." Sanders answered again for the group.

"So like a category one hurricane but with a bit more punch, that's fantastic." Harm gave his head a shake.

"Well, sir, the wind power is on the weak side but the surge is stronger." The young Air Force man informed his commander.

"Alright, with the tensions in the region already high, if any structural damage is done in the area, what do we have in the way of logistical support and repair if we need to do patch work?" Harm posed the question to the room.

"The 17th Area Support Group at Camp Zama in Japan, sir." The senior Army aide answered.

"Alright, where are _Stennis,_ _Lincoln_ and _Washington _right now?" Harm turned to Keeter again.

"Well, right now, _Stennis_ is off the coast of the Philippines, _Washington _is in the Korea Strait and _Lincoln _is slightly to the east of Taiwan proper." Keeter searched for the latest stats among the pages on the table. He handed the page to Harm. "We get them out of the way of the storm and then we send them back in."

"Yeah, let's just hope the Russians get the memo." Harm mused aloud.

2114 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

"Vittorio!" A loud booming English tenor echoed in the corridor. Roger Hendley, Marquis of Farnham skilfully navigated the hallways of the West Wing. "Vittorio!" He demanded again. He was an impressive man with a silver mane of hair atop his head, grey-green eyes and a jaunty moustache decorating his upper lip.

"Nice to see you, Lord Farnham." Gunny plastered a smile across his face as he opened his office door.

"Yes and it's a pleasure to see you as well, Vittorio." The Englishman grinned happily.

"Your flight was good?" Gunny decided small talk was best while the President was in meeting with the Far East advisors.

"My flight was dreadful but the alcohol and stewardesses improved it drastically." He laughed and moved into the office. "Now, my good man, I was summoned by your President and my cousin, where is he?"

"He's meeting with the Far East advisors on Hong Kong right now." Gunny moved around to the chair behind his desk.

"Yes, a nasty business that." Roger scratched his chin.

"How come nothing ever gets done around here unless I use the word _fuck_?!" The President shouted inside the Oval Office.

"Sounds to me like they're wrapping up." Reluctantly, Gunny lifted himself back out of his chair.

"Yes, rather." Roger got up himself and moved toward the door to the Oval. Gunny swung the door open and the two men walked in just in time to see the Far East advisors scurrying out another door.

"Roger! Nice to see you!" The President smiled brightly and walked over to shake his cousin's hand. "It's good to see you again."

"Yes, and you as well, Mr. President." Roger smiled. "How are your children?"

"Ah, they grow up so fast." The President headed for the couches. "Hannah's starting to walk already."

"It was only a matter of time, I suppose." Roger chortled.

"Roger, I brought you into advise on Hong Kong." The President intertwined his fingers in his lap. "The world's unravelling; I need a little help keeping it together."

"So, naturally you sent for me." The Brit pursed his lips.

"Of course." The President gave a nod. "What the hell caused the riots in Hong Kong?"

"Well, it's quite simple really, Mr. President. There's always been a faction on the island that rather detests Beijing and the totalitarianism which they represent. The British Foreign Office figured that Hong Kong would be something like the situation which we encountered with Newfoundland in 1949, in that the cultures would be so similar that they could exist in cohesion. Of course, this latest act of rebellion by Taiwan has shifted the focus of the PRC government and mounting hostilities with Russia has further split Chinese force deployment. All together a considered move which measured the Chinese ability to react and the likelihood of being rewarded by Russia in the event of a successful rebellion." John raised his ankle and brought it to rest on his knee.

"Still raising the question, what the hell do we do about it?" Gunny intervened.

"Absolutely nothing." Sir Roger answered with a wise smile. "These students likely learned something from Tiananmen Square and that is that while peaceful protest is a wonderful notion, it's ultimately never successful against a totalitarian power. Gandhi and Martin Luther King were facing democratic bureaucracies, these students aren't and when peaceful protest fails, they'll turn violent and if they know what they're doing, they can tie down whole divisions of the People's Army for months."

"You saying that the Russians might have agents willing to supply arms for a student revolt?" The President asked.

"It's a case of common interest, Mr. President. These rebels in Hong Kong want a future separate from China, whereas the Russians just want to divide Chinese attention to weaken their ability to project force in Taiwan. I dare say, its espionage politics of the highest order but the Russians have always had the nose for that sort of thing. What the Chinese have yet to grasp is that the Cold War gave both the United States and Russia ample practice in this kind of manoeuvre. The Russians did it to you in Vietnam; you did it to them in Afghanistan." Roger paused for a second. "You haven't a drink around here, have you?"

Gunny got up off the couch and walked over to the President's liquor cabinet. "Bottle of Jameson's eighteen year-old." Gunny told the two men.

"Jolly sporting stuff. Bring it over!" Roger called. "Simply put, Mr. President, you're in a tough position because you cannot back away from a NATO ally and you cannot back away from Taiwan without raising all hell among your Republican Party. The French will block most action through the United Nations, so any intervention on the part of the United States will need the NATO allies which means getting Germany on your side."

Gunny filled the glasses and handed the whiskey to the two men. "Think we can handle it, sir?"

"I think we've got to give it a shot, Gunny." The President took his glass.

"Chesterton said, faith means believing the unbelievable. Hope means hoping when everything seems hopeless. I dare say that we shall need both of these to get through the next week." Roger took his glass. "To Hope."

"Hope." Gunny clinked his glass against Sir Roger's.

"Hope indeed." The President cheered with his comrades. "Let's get to work, shall we? I don't think that the American people would like to know that this is what we do in a time of crisis."

2203 ZULU

CAMP H.M. SMITH

HALAWA, HAWAII

"What the hell is going on with that storm, Sanders?" Harm stormed back into the room.

"On target for the islands, the first surges should start within the hour." The Air Force Captain answered. "Picked up a few miles an hour with a strong tail wind."

"ETA for the islands?" Harm pressed.

"Within the hour." The young officer replied.

"Well, that's perfect. Do we have any ships in the path of the storm?" Harm slunk down into the chair.

"No, sir. We even moved out the subs." Keeter came in behind Harm. "I just fielded a call for you from the White House a few minutes ago. American Force readiness has been raised to DEFCON 4."

"I assume we're being told to maintain a defensive posture and some air of neutrality?" Harm looked over his shoulder at Keeter.

"As much as possible considering that a NATO ally is involved." Keeter grumbled. "We also have a slightly bigger worry at the moment."

"And that is?" Harm asked.

"Russian intelligence." Keeter let out a heavy breath. "They're going to want to know the progress of the Chinese missile sites but they can't send a plane because…"

"Because it'll get shot down." Harm finished. "And they can't use any intelligence that we give them because it would be a violation of neutrality. Ain't life grand?" Harm smirked sarcastically. "We've got another problem, don't we?"

"Can you tell the difference between an American and a Russian reconnaissance plane from twenty-thousand feet, at a SAM site?" Keeter inquired. "At this point, there's as good a chance that they'd fire at one of our planes as they would fire at a Russian plane."

"Pain in the ass." Harm grumbled. "There's a quote I'm trying to remember that Professor Holmes taught us in second year. Can you remember what it was, damn it, if Bax were here, he'd remember that was his best course."

"You cannot conceive nor can I, the appalling strangeness of the mercy of God." Keeter seemed to pull the answer from out of thin air. "It's from Graham Greene and the only reason I remember it is because it was on the final that was the make or break moment for me in that course."

"Yeah, well right now I'm in the mood for a little of that strange mercy." Harm looked at the map of the south Pacific. "We hear anything from the National Security Advisor?"

"Only that it looks like the Russians and the Chinese are going to lock horns whether we do something or not, so, rather then get Americans killed, the President would prefer to keep American boots as far away from Taiwanese soil as humanly possible." Keeter clicked the end of his pen.

"With Silkworms expected to be operational in forty-eight hours, I highly doubt that our biggest worry is the impact of the 3rd Army or two Marine Expeditionary Units anywhere near Taiwanese soil." Harm leaned back in the chair. "The silkworms are my primary concern because they can ruin aircraft carriers and kill thousands upon thousands of soldiers and bring our retaliatory ability into severe delay."

"Not to mention that the President would have to fire a couple Tomahawk missiles up Beijing's ass." Keeter supplemented. "So, do we stop AWACS flights?"

"Not without directions coming down the chain of command from the SECDEF's office." Harm replied, groaning as he stretched out his arms. "Now you see the pickle that we're in."

"Yeah, the wonders of the chain of command. It's amazing how we're able to repeatedly kick ourselves in the ass at times like this isn't it?" Keeter looked over at Harm.

"It's what we do best." Harm pinched the bridge of his nose.

0420 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

The President wandered the halls of the residence in his bathrobe late that night. Well, it wasn't that late by most standards but it was 11:20. Nate considered this another sign of age, that a time before midnight was considered "late". So much international turmoil in one day, quite honestly it was too much for such a small group of people. He stared down at the carpet as he made his way back to the bedroom. He heard the slight creaking of a door down the hall and he picked up the pace. He was just in time to see his niece's boyfriend slinking out of her room, buttoning up his pants. The President cleared his throat and the young man paused and turned slowly.

"It would seem that my job has left me restless, so it's really China's fault we're in this awkward situation." Nate told the young man, his arms crossed in front of his chest in the classic paternal stance.

"Yes, sir." The boy gulped.

"See, what we're going to do right now is pretend that this never happened. That way, I don't have to kill you and get Secret Service to hide the body." The President loved toying with Helene's boyfriends like this.

"Yes, sir." He nodded emphatically.

"Good and just remember, if you ever hurt her…" The President started.

"Deader than a doornail, I know sir." The boy chanced a smile.

"Very good, but you might want to scamper off home now." The President encouraged with a sarcastic smile and the young man dashed off. The President padded off toward the bedroom. He pushed the door open to find his wife sitting at her desk, her reading glasses sitting on the tip of her nose as she reviewed her latest chapter. He walked up behind her and began rubbing her shoulders lightly. "How's the biography coming?"

"Writing the war years before I write the early part of their marriage." Nicole revelled in his touch, rolling her head back and forth. "This is going to be a thick book."

"How many pages you think?" Nate lightly kissed her neck.

"About 700." She murmured. "You feel a little tense."

"I just caught our niece's boyfriend sneaking out of her room." Nate lay back on the bed.

"They're young, they're in love, let it go." Nicole lay down next to him. "How are things in Asia?"

"Between China and the constant Israel-Palestine issue, the most stable part of the whole damn continent is India, who the hell would have thought that?" Nate groaned.

"It's not going to stay that way if China steps up mobilization." Nicole pointed out. "That usually tends to stir things up in New Delhi."

"Yeah, that's how it usually works." Nate turned on his side to look her in the eyes. "I wish I'd been younger when I fell in love with you."

"How young were you?" She inched closer to him.

"I think it happened in stages. When I first met you, I couldn't get over how beautiful you were. I was married and I knew I couldn't do anything so; I just swallowed it and just kept working. Then when I got divorced and you were there for me every step of the way and the person that you were just made me want you, I think by the time Dublin came around, I was doing everything in my power to not just take you up to my hotel room and just throw you down on the bed." He lightly kissed her lips.

"I wish you had." She ran her hands through his hair.

"So do I, now." He told her. "I was so afraid of everything then."

"And now?" She asked.

"Now, I'm mostly worried about losing you and the kids." He whispered, wrapping an arm around her waist. "And that's what makes Taiwan so fucking scary, everyone's got the one thing that will kill everyone else."

Meanwhile, Gunny was walking through the halls of the West Wing toward the communications bullpen. He'd stashed his tie and jacket in his office. The cuffs of his sleeves were unbuttoned and were rolled up around his elbows. It was really interesting to see the White House like this. No one but the janitorial staff walking the halls and there was only one or two of them. He yawned openly as he neared her office. Standing outside, he heard the loud blaring of the TV inside and decided to tap on the door.

"Who is it?" She called over the sound of the TV.

"Me." He turned the knob slightly.

"Come on in." She was trying to contain her smile on the other side of the door. Gunny stepped through the doorway and carefully closed it behind him. She was laying upright on the small pullout sofa, dressed in a t-shirt and some baby blue pyjama bottoms.

"When did you go and get those?" He asked with a light-hearted smile as he sat on her bed.

"I snuck out about two hours ago and picked up some things so I could camp out here until we weather the storm in the Situation Room." She passed the bowl of popcorn over to him. "What's on tap for tomorrow?"

"Going to church with the First Family tomorrow." He moved up to a pillow.

"The President feels the need to speak with Cardinal McCullough; you aren't worried that it'll reaffirm the worries of every non-Catholic that voted for him if he starts consulting with Catholic clergy?" Stacy leaned back next to him, the clock behind them ticking its way to 11:30

"That's a hell of a double standard, isn't it? For forty years Billy Graham was allowed into the White House to give the Presidents spiritual advice but a Catholic President has to fear the wrath of the culture police if they seek spiritual advice from a member of the clergy?" His rising frustration was immediately settled when she put a hand on his back.

"I don't think it matters all that much." She counselled. She reached for the remote and turned it to NBC just in time to hear _Live from New York, it's Saturday Night!_


	61. One of War and One of Ideology

_A/N: We punched out another chapter, we should all consider ourselves lucky that such an opportunity could be had and we hope you enjoy it. _

"_There are two battlefields today, **one of war and one of ideology.** We do not convert people to think our way by pouring bombs on them day after day and week after week."_

_- John Diefenbaker, Canadian Prime Minister 1957-1963_

"Gunny, did you go home last night?" The President asked as he met his friend near the motorcade.

"No need, sir." Gunny answered. "I wanted to be here in case Webb finished up his intelligence compilation. Someone from the White House needed to look it over before it was sent off to Jerry Flynn in New York this morning."

"You work way too hard, Gunny." The President gave him a pat on the back. "When we get back from church this morning, I want you to take the day off and get some rest."

"Yes, sir." Gunny chortled as the boys came running down the stairs behind their dad. "Morning, guys."

"Morning, Gunny." The three of them answered.

"Don't the three of you look smart?" The President crouched down slightly to the triplets' height.

"Dad, we look like dorks." Tim deadpanned, trying to loosen up the tie that Nicole had just tied for him.

"Yes, well, your mother's fashion sense will do that to a growing boy." Nate gave his son a pat on the head.

"My fashion sense will do what?" Nicole entered the foyer.

"Nothing, dear." The President quickly recovered. Nicole looked her usual smart, businesswoman self. Harry had on a stuffy pair of corduroys that Nate knew his son hated but Nicole insisted looked cute on him. Helene was in her best church dress, which still didn't cover enough skin to please either her aunt or uncle, but they'd had the "Amish" conversation many times in the past to no avail. "You sure you want to come, Gunny? If you want to head home for the day, no one will hold it against you."

"Yes, sir but I think it's about time I went to church. I haven't been as observant in the last little while as I should have been." Gunny answered as the group of them walked out to the motorcade.

"Any news from Clayton on that storm front that he was watching come down on Matsu, Quemoy and the Chinese Fujian?" The President asked as they all piled into the limousine.

"Nothing really remarkable, the storm was big but not bigger then expected. PACCOM think it's going to delay the Silkworm setup by twenty-four to thirty-six hours; we think it buys us two days on the DF-31A sites." Gunny told the President, as the motorcade lurched forward. "The Navy's moving the _Lincoln_ back into the Strait. I guess it's good to know that the weather's going to give us a little breathing room."

"A day or two is a little beneficial at this point." The President let out a breath.

"Did you read that New York Times Op-Ed by Tom Friedman this morning? He says you're in danger of following your Truman fixation into folly with regard to Taiwan. He says you may want to be Harry Truman but you could end up like LBJ." Gunny dusted off the sleeve of his jacket.

"Is there any good news in that comparison?" Nicole intervened in the conversation.

"Well, they said, and I believe that I can actually quote this, "at least the President didn't surround himself with a bunch of suits and sycophants". Friedman pointed to Secretary Chegwidden, the AG and Secretary Proper as examples of wise decision-making. He had some kind words for Mike Bradley and Clayton Webb, too. But he didn't know what to make of Admiral Rabb." Gunny's gaze drifted toward the window of the motorcade.

"He's worried that it's favouritism after we put Mac on the court?" The President seemed to draw all his focus into the conversation.

"Well, there was that issue, but he was a little more concerned with having an aviator turned lawyer put in charge of the largest military theatre in the American military, I think." Gunny replied. "But Tom's not a military analyst, and with Russian and Chinese forces on a higher readiness level, it's probably good to have someone with some negotiating and international law experience in the thick of it."

"Sure as hell is." Nate answered. "Gonna be tough for Harm if this thing stretches into the new Congressional term, though. The Armed Services committee is going to want to talk to him, so is the foreign relations committee. And God knows that there's no sleeping pill like the United States Senate."

1704 ZULU

CAMP H.M. SMITH

HALAWA, HAWAII

"Sanders!" Harm shouted as he walked into the war room. "What the hell is going on with that storm?" After only one weekend at PACCOM, Harm was already starting to fall into stride. For example, it made him chuckle to know that the sound of his booming voice could make the young Air Force captain jump

"It's passed over the islands, sir. Naval Intelligence sent a report to Langley this morning that it hit the Chinese mainland harder than it hit the islands. It's going to delay the construction of the missile sites by a few days. We do have on more concern and that is that the Russians have reinforced their border guards along the border with China with military divisions." Sanders handed Harm the latest satellite images.

"Tanks?" Harm looked up at his Army aide. "They're reinforcing border guards with tank divisions? Doesn't that seem a little drastic for border security?"

"There are a few people in Congress who think we should do the same thing along the Mexican border." Keeter strolled into the room with a yawn. "Storm passed?"

"Last night, goddamn thing slowed down the Chinese missile prep." Harm yawned as well. "Damn it, Keeter, you can't do that, it's contagious."

"Sorry, it's nice to know that God's able to control the biggest cannon in the whole damn war." Keeter was accompanied by thunder in the background.

"How do you do that, Jack?" Harm shook has head and chuckled to himself.

"It's a gift." Keeter replied. "What do you want to do about the Ruskis calling up the tank patrol?"

"Get on the horn with the Secretary of Defence and the Director of the CIA to see what else they know before I brief the President so he knows just how far we think Beijing and Moscow are willing to go." Harm leaned against the wall and ran his hand over his head. "We got a link to the Sit Room?"

"Can have it linked up for you in an hour." Keeter replied. "I'm not sure how much more CIA can tell you that we can't."

"CIA can give us the Russian defence condition and the status of their fighter bases. Because the theatre of operations at the moment is confined to the Pacific area, it's reasonable to assume that the Russians might also be stepping up their forces on their further west border with China, here." Harm point to the point on the map.

"It's miles from any target." Keeter analyzed.

"Except that it's not." Harm answered. "It's just thousands of miles away from a major Chinese City, a Naval base or Taiwan. I'll bet a week's pay that there are Chinese Air Bases and Land Garrisons within six hundred miles of that border crossing. The virtue of a proportional response is that it's a contained attack. It has to exist outside the parameters of escalation and only shifting the focus from Taiwan to another part of China does that."

"So you rattle the cages of India and Pakistan by moving the tensions closer to their border? I'm not sure how smart that is." Keeter sat on the edge of the table in the middle of the room. "And how do you explain Hong Kong?"

"Pimple on prom night." Harm commented glibly. "Everything else is going wrong for Beijing, it would just follow that Hong Kong would be next. What Russia's trying to do is force China to back down. It explains everything, the Russians know that they've got the biggest tank force; they know that they've got air superiority but direct conflict, even though it would be a victory, would be a pyrrhic victory. We're lined up behind them but they know that if this rattles India's cage, they can line up three nuclear powers, neutralize Pakistan and run the table on Beijing."

"You had better hope you're right, Admiral. If you're right, then we have reason to believe that the Russians aren't willing to escalate. If you've read the play right though, it means that the boys in Beijing might too, if that happens then they can force escalation from the Russians." Keeter pointed out as he moved over to the map.

"Than we're playing a whole new game. A game where every life taken is either a bluff or an intention. Right now we've got more then twenty thousand sailors floating around Taiwan. Add up our bases in Okinawa and South Korea and you've got tens of thousands more. Right now, the Russians need to be praying that whatever the hell they're planning works. Send a communiqué to STRATCOM, tell them I want satellite photos of that border crossing, give me a broad an angle as they can get. It's times like this that I wish we still ran the SR-71." Harm raised a hand to cover his mouth. Keeter hadn't seen him this deep in though in an awful long time.

"Did you call Mac and the kids this morning?" Keeter decided to nudge him out of the funk a little.

"Call them three times a day, Jack." Harm answered. "Think you can get that link to the Situation Room up by the time we're done lunch?"

"I think so." Keeter nodded. "Relax, we've got Sturgis and Bax in the room; those are two of the best poker players I've ever seen and of course we've got you out here keeping tabs on the shop. No one's more able to call a bluff than you, buddy."

"There's still one question, Keeter." Harm looked over at his old Academy friend.

"What's that?" Keeter had his eyes focused on the floor.

"What if we're wrong?"

1515 ZULU

ST. MATTHEW'S CATHEDRAL

WASHINGTON, DC

The door to the Cardinal's office closed behind them and the Secret Service stood outside the door. "I thought something like this would happen if I was still Cardinal when they elected a Catholic President." The old Irishman followed up his comment with a short bemused laugh.

"Are you saying you don't want Catholic Presidents?" Nate crossed his arms and took a seat.

"On the contrary. Catholicism by nature creates that great little guilt instinct that drives them to confession or to their local Priest every time they face a great moral question. I wish they were all Catholic, their Christianity is at least not just for show." The Cardinal leaned back in his chair. "You should know that my expertise is limited only to theology. I can't give you a policy answer, only a theological one."

"Who better to know the difference between right and wrong than God?" The President mused.

"What's Mr. Galindez doing here?" The Cardinal adjusted his collar.

"He needs to be here due to the nature of the material involved in the advice I'm trying to seek. See, there's only so much that I'm allowed to say, even to someone who would die before releasing information pertaining to the sacrament of confession. So, he's here to keep me on a pretty good leash. Aside from that, he's also been a Catholic longer than I have so he can tell me if I screw up this confessional thing." The President decided to add a little levity to the situation.

"We don't typically rate performances in confessional, Mr. President." The Cardinal leaned back in his chair. "Does this have something to do with China?"

"China and about a dozen other parts of that region. The President of Russia and the Premier of China are going eyeball to eyeball over Taiwan, Hong Kong and God knows what will be next in the coming days. My problem is that right now, I could put the weight of the entire Pacific Command to bear on the Chinese Premier and get him to back down. My problem is that I make decisions based on what is morally right. I know that I can rationalize in my head that causing a few deaths now could save thousands, maybe even millions later but I have no proof that I'm actually going to be saving any lives." The President shook his head, slightly exasperated.

"There are never any easy answers, the only concept is a just war is that an optional sacrifice to prevent a continued and horrific injustice is justifiable. I can't say that you can necessarily justify everything that's done, none of us can justify everything we do, even I can't. Like I said, I can't give you a policy answer, just a theological one. The position of the Catholic Church is that there is such a thing as a justifiable war, but it's so narrowly defined and so exceedingly rare that I can't tell you whether this qualifies. What I can say is that war is your second last option and from a moral and theological standpoint, it must always be your second last option." The Cardinal leaned forward, his elbows placed firmly on the desk.

"What's my last option?" The President chanced a look in the old Irishman's eyes.

"Nuclear war. But let us both pray that you exhaust all the options on this earth and any others before we arrive at that." The Cardinal answered. "All you can do is pray for God's guidance to do the right thing. Remember the words of our Lord in the Gospel of St. Matthew. "But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you; that ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth the rain on the just and on the unjust." In the end, there are no good wars, because death is a part of war. But there are just wars and they are reluctant ones when they are fought." The Cardinal put his hand on the President's shoulder. "I hope I have been of some help."

"You have, your eminence, thank you." The President got up out of his chair and shook the Cardinal's hand. He turned toward Gunny and the two of them walked out of the office. "How did I do?" Nate turned to his top advisor.

"You know what, sir? I think you've really got a knack for this Catholic thing." Gunny gave the President a pat on the back as the two men walked toward the motorcade. "It's a pity you didn't grow up with it, Catholic guilt is a lot of fun to deal with when you're a teenager."

"Yeah, I bet." The President laughed.

1804 ZULU

GUNNY'S APARTMENT

3 BLOCKS FROM THE CAPITOL

Gunny was cradled into the couch with the latest issue of Newsweek. One of the greatest things about being the Chief of Staff was that you got to write off newspaper and magazine subscriptions on your taxes. He had flipped on the Washington Wizards game and opened up a bottle of Sam Adams. He knew that this was the one day this week that he was going to get off. Tomorrow he was going to be back to a six day a week grind that would continue until they figured out what the hell was going on in China. He pause halfway through an article on the Freshman Senate Class to think about the night before. He didn't need to read up on the Freshman Democrats anyway, he spent so much time with Capetti, Diaz and Sullivan from July to November that he knew exactly what kind of Washington animals they were going to turn out to be.

Speaking of Washington animals, he spent the previous night curled up on a sleeper sofa with a very attractive one. It was probably not in his best interest to refer to the blonde, leggy Press Secretary as an attractive animal. It had been a very long time since he had a girlfriend, hell he hadn't had one since he had this job. He didn't know how other men could do it; how Secretary Chegwidden or Admiral Rabb could balance demanding jobs and a family life. He especially had no idea how the President, the guy with the most demanding job on the planet could balance that, a wife and six kids. He couldn't even imagine balancing a girlfriend and a tough job and he would be working with his girlfriend.

A knock came at his door and he slowly raised himself up off the couch. He padded across the carpet floor to the doorway. He checked the peephole quickly and a smile decorated his face. He quickly stepped aside and swung the door open. "Didn't expect to see you here today. I figured you'd go home and sink into a bubble bath." He smiled at her. She moved passed him into the apartment.

"I figured that would be more fun to do over here." She replied flirtatiously. The two of them stepped back toward the living room. "We didn't have sex last night." She taunted him.

"I know." He answered, trying to maintain a measure of stoicism.

"What's wrong with you?" She tossed at him lightly. "A girl invites you into her bed and you don't take advantage?"

"I figured the White House was probably the wrong place to have sex. That kind of activity tends to lead to Congressional investigations." He answered, trying to contain the primal urges screaming at his brain.

" I see." She moved toward him slowly until she was right in front of him. In a flash, she lunged out and pushed him back on to the couch before descending on him and straddling his legs. "How about right here?"

He gulped. "Right here works." He nodded slowly. "Don't you think we should, I don't know, talk first?"

"You want to talk?" She whined. Her hands opened flat on his chest.

"Weren't you the one who wanted to talk no more than two weeks ago?" He protested.

"Yeah, but that was before I was horny." She finally relented and got off of him. She sat next to him on the couch. "Talk."

"I just want you to know that I think we can do this." He started.

"I think we can too, but you wanted to talk." She retorted.

"I meant the whole relationship thing, I think we can do it. I just want you to know that…" he took her hands in his, "…I can't hurt you. I mean, I would never do anything to…if this thing's going to end ever, and I hope it doesn't, I don't think I've got it in me to ever end it. I could never do that to you."

She giggled slightly and gazed into his eyes. "That was probably both the sweetest and clumsiest thing that you've ever said. I know we can make it work, but that doesn't mean it isn't going to be tough. Right here, right now, we need to say that what happens at work stays at work, alright?"

"Yeah." He nodded and leaned in to kiss her on the lips. "We're also going to have to keep this pretty under wraps at work too. I don't think anyone really needs to know…except the boss. He gave both of us a chance, he deserves to know what's going on in the White House."

"I thought you said you didn't want to do it in the White House." She toyed with him.

"You know what I mean." He responded.

"You're sure that you're not just trying to make an honest woman out of me?" Her fingers lightly danced over the short hairs at the back of his neck.

"No, I…I…I swear I'm not trying to freak you out but…I'm in love with you." He told her, awaiting a response.

"Love you, too." She kissed the end of his nose and got up off the couch. She moved across the carpet.

"Where are you going?" He questioned.

"The bath, aren't you coming?" She winked at him and sure enough, he got off the couch.

2217 ZULU

CAMP H.M SMITH

HALAWA, HAWAII

"It's eerily quiet." Keeter walked into Harm's office swinging an eighteen year old bottle of scotch between the fingers on his right hand.

"Beijing's trying to think of something to do. Right now, the ball's in their court. They can cut off the finger to save the hand and not crush the revolt in Hong Kong or they can go in and tie up divisions of the People's Army that they might need." Harm glanced down at the phone on his desk. He really wanted to call Mac, but he supposed that he could spare a few minutes to share a drink with Keeter.

"You've got this strategy all figured out, don't you?" Keeter sat down in a chair and placed two glasses on the desk. "The guys in the Situation Room agree with you?"

"I think Secretary Chegwidden does, but you know Webb, way too cautious to commit to a definite reading of the situation." Harm watched Keeter pop the top on the bottle. "What do you think?"

"Strategically, you're the best mind in the biz, Harm." Keeter poured the alcohol in both glasses. "Hell, if I was the President, I'd want you out here commanding the troops."

"Jack, if you were President, I'd move to Canada." Harm laughed. "Now, pass the scotch."

"It's coming down to go-time; do you think you're going to have to head out to one of the carriers to oversee ops?" Keeter raised the glass to his lips.

"I've been considering that all day. I figure that I can head out to the _Stennis_ on Wednesday if things get hot again. If they stay cool, I don't have to leave the islands. But see, we don't get to play in the next portion of the game because that's all going to take place at the United Nations tomorrow." Harm kicked back in the chair and cast another quick glance at the phone.

"So, the coach is benching us for the second quarter?" Keeter asked, a bemused smile dancing across his expression.

"Yeah, but we're going to be the All-Americans in the second half." Harm took a sip of the scotch. "Great stuff, Keeter. You must have some good connections here on the island."

"I should, I've been marooned on this island longer than Robinson Crusoe." Jack grinned.

"I could arrange for you to be sent back to Washington, if you want." Harm toyed with his old friend who suddenly seemed to look very worried. "After all, cold winds off the Chesapeake should bring back some fond nostalgia from our Academy days."

"No thanks, I'll take the twelve months of summer here in paradise." Keeter chortled. "I'll leave to call the wife and kiddies, give them my best."

"Will do." Harm waved off his friend and picked up the black telephone receiver. He dialled the number for home and awaited a voice on the other side. "Evening, honey."

"Hey, Harm, how are things out in Hawaii?" Mac's cheery voice came through the phone.

"Warm, and really tense." Harm answered, trying to dance around the reason for why he was out in the middle of the Pacific in the first place. "How about Washington?"

"A lot more eerie silences than usual." Mac replied.

"How are the kids?" Harm decided to get on to a friendlier topic for both of them.

"Fine, they're with your mom at McDonald's right now." Mac answered, knowing how it got his goat.

"Mac…" Harm warned, in his best fatherly voice.

"Harm, they're kids, we have to let their grandparents spoil them, even just a little bit." Mac lovingly coaxed her husband down off his whole wheat pedestal.

"Alright, alright."

2355 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C

The President was sitting in the Oval office with Sir Roger and Nicole. The two of them were contemplating the possibilities of just what could happen tomorrow at the United Nations. The Englishman had a cigarette dangling from his mouth and was patting down his breast pockets in search of a lighter. The President chuckled to himself. "Roger, you can't smoke in here."

"What?!" The Englishman sounded a disgruntled alarm.

"You have to go out on to the portico if you want to smoke." The President pointed to the door at the side.

"Your President Roosevelt smoked in the White House." Sir Roger remarked calmly.

"That was sixty years ago. We've passed laws against that sort of things in the years since." Nate crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"My God, what is becoming of civilization?" Roger shook his head.

"How do you think Jerry Flynn's going to do at the United Nations tomorrow?" Nicole leaned forward, trying to gauge her husband's reaction.

"Jerry's a former CSIS fellow, Congressman and District Attorney for Essex County in New Jersey. If he can take on the mob, the UN doesn't stand a chance." The President sat straight against the back of the couch.

"Mr. President." The Executive Secretary poked her head through the door.

"Yes, Betty." The President answered.

"Mr. Galindez and Miss Anderson to see you, sir?" Betty nodded toward the waiting area in the outer office.

"On a Sunday?" Nicole looked suspiciously at her husband.

"Send them in, Betty." The President got up off the couch. Gunny and Stacy came walking through the door. "I thought I told you to go home?"

"Decided to swing by and see you, sir." Gunny replied, the smile on his face going from ear to ear. Considering the international crisis that they were in the middle of, that was enough to raise the President's suspicions. He took a quick scan of their body language and his suspicion was raised even further.

"Actually, we have some news for you, sir." Stacy's smiled was almost as wide as Gunny's. Nate was sure that, Nicole was reading the situation too, if the subdued giddy giggle that had just escaped her throat was any indication.

"Does this have something to do with both of your personal lives?" The President immediately reverted into his professional mode.

"Yes, sir." The two of them answered with a nod.

"Could it prospectively have to do with an evolving relationship status?" Nate was very weary of what he saw coming.

"Yes." Gunny replied.

"Let me say that I'm very happy for the two of you, but I really can't hear any more." The President interrupted. "You two are old enough to know how Washington works and somehow, even if the fewest people know, something will happen and rumours will start. That means someone's going to ask me about it. I can't lie to the press, so it's better that I don't know anything. So, that I can say to the press that I don't know anything, okay?"

"Yeah." Gunny smirked and nodded his head. The President had an uncanny knack for predicting media trouble and planning to sidestep it.

"Now, about this thing of which I know nothing. Like I said, I'm very happy for the two of you. I trust it will not interfere with your work?" The President eyed two of his top aides.

"No, sir." Stacy answered first.

"No, sir." Gunny followed up.

"Good, now Gunny why don't you step out on to the portico with Sir Roger and me to have a cigar." The President moved over to his desk and pulled three cigars out of the box on his desk that had been given to him by the Dominican ambassador. The three men moved through the door out on to the portico. "Enjoy the new status, my friend." The President gave Gunny a pat on the back.

"Why's that, sir?" Gunny looked a little worried.

"Because pretty soon, the furniture shopping is going to start and you're going to wreck your back trying to rearrange furniture and merge two apartments together." The President and Sir Roger shared a laugh and Gunny wore a petrified look. "On the plus side, you can always order White House staff to help."

"Jolly good." Sir Roger belted out.

"Indeed." The President added.

"Yes, sir." Gunny laughed to himself.


	62. The Heat Is On

_A/N: Wow! You guys are patient! Sorry, between moving out of the dorms, moving houses when I finally got back home and work I literally went three weeks without computer or internet time. Here's the latest chapter, the updates will be more regular now, I promise!_

Victor Galindez confidently strode the halls of the West Wing of the White House the next morning. The whole experience was a little surreal. In ways inconceivable to him only twenty-four hours earlier, he had a greater understanding of the job this morning than the last. The open Ralph Lauren jacket hung loosely from his shoulders as he headed through the communications bullpen. "The world's about to end and no one picked up a phone to call me?!" Charlie Scott shouted, as he approached his boss.

"Charlie, vacations in this place are rare enough, don't bitch because we didn't want to end yours. How did you find out the nitty gritty details anyway?" Gunny paused for a second outside of Kat O'Leary's office.

"Well I could say that you press snow-job on this one was sub-par and I found out from CNN, but that's a lie. I do have an NSC clearance card that gives me access to these kinds of things, you know?" Charlie was wearing a pair of sweats that he had obviously worn the whole ten hour plane flight in from Hawaii. "What does the situation look like right now?"

"I'd pick the United Nations to beat the spread this afternoon." Gunny answered as he shuffled through the latest wire traffic sent over from Langley that morning. "You'd better go talk to Mike Bradley; I don't think he's slept in three days."

"On it, boss." Charlie tossed a Boy Scout salute off and headed for the Situation Room. Gunny walked over to Kat's door.

"Got your page, you said you wanted to see me." Gunny stuck his head in the door.

"We need a new line to give the press. Telling them that we're monitoring the situation while trying to mediate interests isn't working any more." Kat got up from behind her desk.

"The Senate's going to debate today on giving the President the right to use force as a diplomatic tool. Direct them toward that as copy for the wire services today." Gunny answered.

"C-SPAN debates in the Senate are insomnia cures, they prescribe them to patients who don't respond to strong drugs or Montovani recordings and that's exactly what I'm going to hear from the press corps." Kat retorted.

"The United Nations is going to meet to discuss a Security Council peace resolution today. With any luck, directing them to that and the Senate should take enough heat off of us that White House response won't make up a lot of column inches." Gunny cracked his knuckles nervously.

"And if you're wrong?" Kat chanced.

"We still have more important things to do today than care about what they write in the papers or say on cable." Gunny turned and headed out of the office. Jerry Flynn had been Ambassador to the UN for four years; he'd never had a more important day than this. Victor Galindez had been White House Chief of Staff for four years; he'd never had a more important day than this. The quiet reflection of a moment would tell him that weren't ever going to be a lot of days that were more important than this.

His office seemed darker, more foreboding than usual. His task was great, more daunting than anything he'd come up against yet. His only consolation was that he had a good group of competent people around him, the greatest of which sat behind the resolute desk in the large oval room next door. He moved slowly across the hunter green carpet floor to large redwood door that separated his office from that of the President of the United States. "Good morning, sir." Gunny chirped as he entered the room.

"A matter of opinion, Gunny." The President replied in his glib, patrician manner. Setting down the latest budget report from the OMB, he got up from behind his desk. "Talked to Jerry Flynn this morning, never heard a man so nervous in my life."

"I think we're all going to need a smoke when we watch that Security Council session this afternoon." Gunny grinned. "Gonna be a hell of a day, sir."

"Gunny, your give'em hell optimism notwithstanding, you do fully understand that the world could end before dinner tonight, right?" The President carried a weary regal disposition. He looked at least five years older than his almost forty-six years. "We're hoping for a Hail Mary pass in New York after lunch. I feel as if I really need to talk with the nation tonight. Can you get some time with the networks tonight around eight?"

"Sure, Mr. President." Gunny made a quick note on his clipboard. "Did you want the pomp and circumstance of the office or the more paternal approach that comes with doing this in the residence?"

"Gunny, there are certain times that a President can seem like a national father figure. When taking the nation through a tough recession or national tragedy, this might be preferable. Tonight, I have to tell the American people that two nuclear powers are gearing up to play a high stakes game of diplomatic chicken and we're going to be forced to take sides. I think everyone would be very relieved if I seemed as Presidential as possible." Nate came around to the front of his desk. "Tell Morley I need some language on my desk by four, I'll punch up the draft myself."

"Yes, sir." Gunny scribbled another note and turned to leave the Oval Office.

1931 ZULU

CAMP H.M. SMITH

HALAWA, HAWAII

"President's going to address the country tonight." Keeter walked into Harm's office. "The wonders of CNN, huh?"

"We've got planes that are starting to do round the clock recon work on the missile sites, right? We're going to want to know when their birds are operational and if they're gassing them up." Harm leaned forward, elbow on the desk. It was a pose that he'd seen Chegwidden take a thousand times. That alone was enough to give him pause.

"Be careful, boss, make the runs a little to frequent and the Chinese are going to know when they're coming before we know that we've sent them." Keeter answered.

"All things considered, I doubt they'd take a shot at one of our boys. They're desperate and cornered, not stupid." Harm countered as he shifted back in his chair.

"I got news for you, buddy. Desperate and cornered means irrational and that ain't a far cry from stupid." Keeter was still standing; today it seemed as if few people actually had the chance to sit. Except for Harm. As the Pacific Commander, he needed to be in a place where everyone could find him and right now that was in his office on base. Later it would probably shift to the war room. No, knowing Harm as Keeter did, he would rather be out on a carrier when it hit the fan rather than behind some desk or some table thousands of miles away. "You think the President's considering raising the DEFCON again?

"It would seem a wise thing to do, rather than waiting for something else to go wrong before raising the awareness level, but the NCA does things by the book. He want raise the awareness level until he has credible evidence of a direct threat to the United States, than the country will basically go into a lockdown mode. I don't think there are a whole lot of us old enough to remember the last time that happened." Harm finally raised himself up out of his chair.

"Yeah, well Khrushchev's not pointing nukes at us from Cuba this time, buddy." Keeter began to move back toward the door.

"No, this time it's China and they're threatening the whole pacific theatre of operations. This just doesn't make sense, Jack. They can't gain anything from it. Sort of bullshit's the idea of a nation as a rational actor. They don't have the navy to support a conquest of Taiwan, whereas both the Russians and us have the Navy and the ground support to drive them off. So what happens then?" Harm turned his aged blue eyes on his oldest friend.

"Cooler heads prevail." Keeter answered.

"What if they don't? So, they launch their nukes. So, we launch our nukes. Where does that leave us?" This time Harm pressed for an answer.

"Fucked." Keeter replied. "Which is exactly why they won't do it, there isn't a human being on earth so sadomasochistic as to kill billions of people that wantonly."

"That's a lot to bet on." Harm tossed his white cover around on his hand lightly. "Guess I'm a long way from JAG now."

"With some of the things you did at JAG?" Keeter questioned in slight disbelief. "No, not really."

"You got a real case of smart ass today, you know that?" Harm chuckled as they moved toward the door. "We still have those planes running recon routes though, right?" Harm brought the conversation back to where it had initially veered off track.

"Yeah, buddy. The Lincoln, Stennis and Washington are all running them. I've also got our bases in Korea and Japan on supports and logistics duty." Keeter gave Harm a pat on the back. "On a much better topic, I heard that the boys in Congress were considering lifting the embargo on Cuban cigars."

"It's outdated anyway, we should have got rid of that thing twenty years ago." Harm complained, adopting a more fraternal, less foreboding tone.

"Glad to hear you say that because I've got some stogies in my cabin and I didn't want to offend the Admiral by lighting one up tonight." Keeter chortled happily as they headed toward the intelligence briefing.

"Violating the law, Keeter? What kind of example does that set for the children?" Harm played along just for fun.

"Didn't you plan on having a humidor built into your old apartment before Mac gave you a lecture on the legal status of Cuban cigars?" Keeter mused, as if talking to no one in particular.

"Your point?" Harm deadpanned.

"Nothing, I just remember you being a lot more fun." Keeter laughed and picked up the pace to avoid the glare of his old Academy buddy which was boring a slow hole in the back of his head.

1620 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Jerry Flynn was short. In reality, perhaps too short to be effective at his job; or so he had always thought. He was a Brooklyn Democrat who had made his name as a District Attorney in New Jersey. At fifty-two he was going bald, another thing that made him a little self-conscious. He'd worn the same seven suits, matched for a corresponding day of the week, everyday since he was thirty-five. The few that had caramel coloured suede patches on the worn elbows made him look slightly professorial as he tucked his dull green-grey eyes in behind his glasses. He'd been called into the Oval Office over the weekend, it wasn't often that the Manager came out to the mound to talk to his pitchers, which meant either that this was a really big game or that you were about to be pulled.

For a guy who grew up, or at least grew old, watching the New York Mets either was a dreaded possibility. In Washington, a rare breach of protocol brought a box of Dominican cigars into the Situation room as the National Security Council members gathered around the television to watch the UN debate this resolution, or at least to watch Jerry Flynn tell the world what China was up to. The President and the Secretary of State knew most of the players on the other side of the television screen, or at least the major ones in the coming scene. The young man who looked like he was half polar bear with his six foot six frame was Dmitri Yavnyevich, the Russian Ambassador to the UN. Across the forum from him was the man known has Mr. Lao, Mr. Lao was a Communist Party insider and Beijing. A sort of Minister without Portfolio that was in New York in place of China's regular Ambassador.

"How good is it that Lao is there instead of Peng?" Gunny turned toward the Secretary of State, the cigar dangling limply from his lips; as yet unlit.

"Six of one, half dozen of the other. It could just as easily come back to bite us in the ass. Jerry has to pull Brazil, Senegal, Croatia, Bhutan and Canada to our side. That should signal enough international support that we can at least prod NATO into action if the UN doesn't do anything." Alizia answered. "Of course, we would have a better shot at persuading the French if it didn't look as if we were antagonizing the Chinese."

"Well, we've got Harm and he's a master of antagonizing the Chinese. So, if he hasn't complained yet, we're in good shape." Clayton Webb chuckled to himself. The remark got some bemused agreement from those aware of Harmon Rabb's history of running afoul of other nations.

"Not that you haven't irritated most of the international community during your tenure with the Agency, right Webb?" Secretary Chegwidden added, causing a more raucous round of laughter this time. The room was melody of scattered sound. The nervous cracking of knuckles; the soft ruffling of a hand passing through hair; the violent click of a Zippo lighter; the staccato pucker that begins every cigar.

Victor Galindez watched the scene with an unmatched anticipation. The tension rose with each passing second. Beads of sweat were tracing everyone's collars, which were now loosened to a point of slack unusual for a professional gathering. Everyone was nervous. Everyone except the President. The man had an uncanny knack for maintaining his composure and even his smile as he watched the UN meeting begin. Complexity was his work but he made its inherent simplicity seem like an art form. He carried the office it seemed at times; at least as much as the office could up lift him. "Jerry's got one good inning left in his arm, fellas." The President proclaimed. "Let's watch him pitch."

They seemed to have conveniently forgotten that it was not Ambassador Flynn's chance to speak first. They were tortured into a few more minutes of waiting. The President sat next to his Chief of Staff. "So, how's that thing we talked about yesterday but of which I have no confirmed knowledge?"

"In the eighteen hours since we last talked about it, sir? Or the twenty-four that it's existed?" Gunny retorted slyly.

"Well you survived a Sunday morning, didn't you?" The President asked. "A little piece of advice for you; Sunday morning is the most important few hours of any week. At least when you're just dating. It's those precious few hours without distractions and without sex that you have moments of real intimacy. It's too early in the day for football and it doesn't have the pace and expectation of Saturday night. If your relationship is a series of Sunday mornings, than you'll know."

"Know what, sir?" Gunny looked slightly puzzled.

"Oh, you'll just know." The President answered wisely.

1944 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, DC

"Stacy! Stacy! Wait up!" The thirty-something CNN reporter called down the hall to her old colleague.

"What can I do for you, Dayna?" The White House Press Secretary turned back toward her old colleague.

"Give something, anything to report. No offence to Kat but her press conferences aren't exactly the most enthralling spectacles in news journalism." The CNN correspondent had a knack for backhanded flattery. She was telling Stacy, in her own way that she much preferred her as the Press Secretary.

"Well, if you watched the UN this afternoon, you'd be reporting that the world is about to end and the performance of the interim White House press liaison doesn't really compare to that kind of news I would think." Stacy brushed of the reporter's inquiry.

"The world's not going to end. Your boss has one mean Superman streak, so does the Admiral that he just put in charge of the PACCOM……Rabb, I think." Dayna paused, finally able to look Stacy in the eye. "Oh my God, you had sex!"

Mortified by her old friend's outburst, Stacy pulled her out of the hallway and into a momentarily empty office, closing the door behind her. "Why the hell would you shout that in the middle of the White House?" Stacy demanded.

"Because I have shitty timing. Now, who's the guy?" Dayna was on the edge of her seat.

"First off, I'm not admitting that there actually _is_ a guy. Second, I'm sure as hell not going to tell CNN. Third, the world is still on the brink of massive war and you think my lovelife is newsworthy?" Stacy had her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Listen to me, our entertainment division at CNN is almost as big as the news division. A star going to rehab or prison is bigger news than and Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty, you've got to give me something here." Dayna sat back on the edge of a desk in the dark office.

"Okay, aside from the depressing statement you just made about the state of news in this world, I'm still going to tell you that I have nothing to tell you." Stacy answered, her best no nonsense tone colouring the conversation in an opaque snow-job.

"Come on, you work on the most politicized square footage in the country, there are smart men everywhere. Every last one of them has a well-paying job, a White House romance makes excellent copy and it's a good human interest story." Dayna tried to prod her friend into opening up. Stacy, feeling slightly cornered, decided to opt for the non-denial denial; a Washington trick as old as the Capital itself.

"You think I'm stupid enough to get involved with someone at work. Things like that have a way of attracting the attention of the House Government Oversight committee. We try to avoid them as much as possible. Even at cocktail parties." Stacy looked past Dayna to see Charlie and Gunny walking through the hall toward the Oval.

"I don't know, you've always had a taste for good men, just since I've known you, you've dated professional athletes and Washington insiders." Dayna examined her friend's face. "But I suppose you're wiser now. Talk to you later?"

"Yeah. Stacy nodded, breathing a silent sigh of relief for having the dodged further inquiry. After the reporter had left the now vacant office, Stacy hiked it over toward the Oval to catch up with her boss; coincidentally he was also now her boyfriend. "What's going on?" She asked of Gunny as they moved toward his office, only one of the many channels into the magnetizing influence of the Oval office.

"The NSC just met about the pacific situation. We've got to meet with Senators Gonzalez and Crozier about the Senate resolution that's about to appear before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. The President's going to have to give him the Treatment." Gunny answered, nervously casting glances at the door to his office.

"Where would we be if the President hadn't mastered the Lyndon Johnson secret to whipping Democratic Senators?" Stacy mused lightly. "How's the outlook? I'm sure that we don't want a major foreign policy catastrophe right before the second term."

"At this point, I think we'd all be pleased just to make it to the second term." Gunny anxiously tapped his fingers on his folder. "After we meet with Crozier and Gonzalez, the President's got a meeting with the Chinese Ambassador and then a phone call with the Russian President. We've got to regroup, we were betting everything on a UN strategy and it looks like that failed."

"What's Plan B?" Stacy turned to Charlie this time.

"Trust in our own people and the judgement of the President of the United States." Charlie gnawed lightly on his lower lip. "Right now, the biggest danger is that we don't know how far Beijing is willing to go. It could be Russian roulette with a loaded gun."

"Our gun's bigger than their gun." Stacy taunted lightly. "Until then, what do we tell the press?"

"Better question, what _can _you tell a bunch of reporters who've just sent the last best hope for international peace flushed down the toilet?" Stacy moved into Gunny's office and more toward the Oval in order to make her colleagues more at ease.

"You look them right in the eye and you tell them that they're wrong. Because the last best hope for international peace, works in the Oval Office." Gunny affirmed, as he finally turned away from her toward the door to the Oval.

"Charlie, could I have the room, please?" Stacy asked the Deputy Chief of Staff before he and Gunny could slink in to see their boss. Charlie nodded and Gunny hung back a moment.

"What's up?" Gunny crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"I just got pummelled with questions from an old friend of mine at CNN about whether I'm dating someone." Stacy almost tripped over her tongue, she spoke so quickly.

"Okay, how did your friend arrive at this conclusion?" Gunny pressed.

"Apparently, I glow after I've had sex." Stacy tried not to blush when she said that but it crept to her cheeks anyway.

"Well……yeah, that's true." Gunny chuckled to himself. "Did you tell her anything?"

"We already have enough on our plate without pissing off a Congress that has yet to convene, don't you think?" Stacy countered. "Besides, we hadn't really talked about who should know. And I mean, Washington's full of public eyes that would like to spy on us."

"Well first, no one with a press pass needs to or should know." Gunny answered. "I'm with you on the eyes everywhere thing, but it sounds a little paranoid for my taste. We do have to be careful about our public appearances. I also think we're underestimating the attention span of Congress."

"You have to remember, this is largely the same group of people who investigated and impeached a President for getting a blowjob." Stacy countered, glad that they could joke about something still.

"That was just the Republicans." Gunny pointed out.

"Point taken, but these are politicians. To them, everyone's expendable to save their own careers." Their tender comedy was interrupted when Charlie stuck his head through the door to get Gunny's attention.

"Hey, boss, you're going to want to be privy to this." Charlie told the Chief of Staff. Gunny cast a sympathetic glance at Stacy before disappearing behind the door. The two men approached the desk of the President of the United States who was staring down at a blank sheet of stationary with a pen in his hand.

"Gentlemen, I've been informed by National Security Advisor Bradley that a little more than forty minutes ago, an F-18 Hornet was shot down while flying an escort flight for our recon planes. While the body has not been found, early indications are that the pilot could not have survived the crash. Navy Lieutenant Sean Arnason is officially the first American to die at the hands of hostile fire by the People's Liberation Army of the PRC since 1953." The President set the pen down on the table. "In a few moments, we will be heading down to the Situation Room, yet again, to discuss our options. General Fitzpatrick has advised me to raise the Defence Condition, to DEFCON 3. I'm prepared to do that. Are you with me so far?"

"Yes, sir." The two men nodded uniformly.

"Good, because this mess of molasses is about to get a whole lot stickier before we wade through it. The Rules of Engagement established for this exercise give the power of response to an attack on American forces to the PACCOM. Because I authorized the rules three days ago, I'm now caught between a pre-existing order and the want to intercede in the hope that we can still accomplishing something diplomatically. I need to know two things from the two of you right now. Do you think we can still get somewhere with the PRC and are there any moral objections to using the death of Lieutenant Arnason to sway international opinion? I realize that both are remarkably tough decisions." The President took a deep breath.

"I serve at the pleasure of the President." Gunny answered, almost without having to think about it.

"I serve at the pleasure of the President." Charlie echoed.

"Good men." The President smiled fondly. " Gunny, I'm going to need a direct phone line with the President of France when I get out of the Situation Room. Once we've decided on our course of action with the NSC, I need you to look like you accidentally leaked this story to the press. We need to rile the American people up a little bit."

"I can have Kat do it. No one in the White House Press Corps is particularly impressed with her media skills, they'll think she just screwed up." Gunny told the President.

"That's a reassuring thing to know about my Deputy Communications Director." The President rolled his eyes. "After I'm done with the French President, I need to talk with the Russian President. Than get me Gonzalez and Crozier, I don't care what time of night it is. After that, the Chinese Ambassador will have spent a couple hours waiting for the shoe to drop, we should have him sufficiently rattled. You sure you can do this?"

"Yes, sir." Gunny nodded.

"Good, because it needs to go off like clockwork." The President affirmed. He gave each man an encouraging pat on the back. "Let's get to it."


	63. Blaze of Glory

Normally, the doors to the Situation Room just slide open. In fact, they tend to make a bit of a loud whoosh sound, like they're sucking air. The President's urge was to just push them open, an exercise in anger, an exercise in relieving frustration, an exercise in preventing the Commander in Chief of the United States from strangling the Director of the CIA. "Webb!" The President shouted as he entered the room. "How the hell did you not see this coming?"

"We just didn't see this coming. I guess it shouldn't have been that much of a surprise after what happened in New York this afternoon." Webb hunched over the table, his fingers intertwined in front of him.

"Well, I'm sure that will come to the great comfort of Mr and Mrs Arnason of Jackson Hole, Wyoming; you see, they just lost their son over Chinese coast!" The President was shouting again. "A.J., I'm about to give the order to raise the Defence Condition to Level 3, I'd like that order carried out as quickly as possible."

"Yes, sir, Mr. President." The Secretary of Defence nodded to his boss before picking up the phone on the table and dialling the Pentagon. The big screen at the other end of the table flashed on and the President was brought face to face with Admiral Harmon Rabb.

"Good evening, Admiral Rabb. I'm sure you're aware of the situation regarding Lieutenant Arnason." The President leaned forward on the long redwood boardroom table in front of him.

"Yes, sir." Harm affirmed to the President.

"Good, I've just given the order to raise the Defence Condition to level three. At this time, I'm going to contravene my order pertaining to the rules of engagement in the event of conflict in this Theatre of Operations. I want you to give me a basic workup of an Alpha Strike against the base that launched the attack on Lieutenant Arnason and his squad." The President looked around the room, waiting for someone to be brave enough to question his order.

"Mr. President, don't you think that might be just a little rash?" The Secretary of State intervened.

"Please, if anyone has a better idea, now is the time." The President looked around the room. "I am the President of the United States, it is my job, it is the premier responsibility of my office to protect the citizens of the United States. If I…if _we_ fail, then it is our jobs, as the gatekeepers to this republic that we prevent such a calamity from happening again. Now, I will exhaust all last minute diplomatic means to bring the weight of the international community down on the People's Republic of China. Failing that, I will be talking with you again Admiral and instructing you to level that military base with a rain of fire that would make the Great Plagues look like child's play. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir." The room chorused.

"Good. Now is there anyone in the room who thinks we should do more in the event of a diplomatic failure than just level that one military base? I remind you, that I'm addressing the nation in roughly seventy minutes." The President looked around the room once more. "Alright, I want everyone in hear on the horn working every back channel they can possibly think of. If you know someone, who knows someone whose great uncle works as a janitor in the Beijing politburo, call them and see if we can't get some kind of deal done so the world doesn't go to hell in a hand-basket."

"Yes, sir." The room answered and the President turned toward the door with Gunny and Charlie following closely in tow. "Sir, I think we need to discuss the political ramifications of what just happened in there." Charlie pressed the President as they moved back to the Oval Office.

"You're talking about Gonzalez and Crozier?" The President asked over his shoulder to the Deputy Chief of Staff.

"I am, sir." Charlie nodded and cleared his throat.

"What political ramifications do I have to worry about from Gonzalez and Crozier?" The President didn't look back this time.

"Well, Crozier is an old-boy Goldwater style Republican who thinks we should have nuked China off the map back when Truman was President and MacArthur was in charge. As the ranking Republican on Foreign Relations, he's going to command a lot of Senate Republican votes but the isolationist wing of the party is still going to flare up." Charlie explained quickly.

"Alright and my worry with Gonzalez is?" The President turned with his back against the door to the Oval Office.

"Two-fold, sir. First, Gonzalez is a young, liberal, peacenik Eugene McCarthy style Senator with his head up his ass and he doesn't command more than ten Senate votes even though he chairs the Foreign Relations Committee. Our second problem with Gonzalez is that he's running for President." That last comment caused the President to stop in his tracks.

"Didn't I just do that?" The President inquired, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Yes, sir, it just gets earlier and earlier in every cycle. It's an open election, the Vice President is a weak contender in this go around, half of the Senate is going to be running in either Party, and you're going to have Governors and Congressmen running." Charlie answered simply.

"Not to mention the Secretary of the Treasury." Gunny pointed out.

"A candidate with a formidable record; youngest mayor of Des Moines ever, three term Congressman, two terms as Governor of Iowa and probably two full terms as Secretary of the Treasury. By 2016, he'll be fifty-two." Charlie stopped when he saw two thoroughly disinterested faces. "I'll stop now."

"Good, Gunny is my call with the French President all set up?" The President inquired.

"Yes, sir." Gunny nodded. The President pushed open the door to the Oval and stepped inside.

2413 ZULU

CAMP H.M. SMITH

HALAWA, HAWAII

"Jack, we've got a bit of a problem." Harm entered his war room.

"Other than the fact that we just lost a plane?" Keeter looked up from his intelligence brief.

"The President just ordered me to compile a retaliation plan in the next hour. In the next sixty minutes I need to compile an Alpha Strike order against the base that launched the attack on Arnason's squad and fifteen minutes ago, we weren't sure what base that was." Harm took a seat at the desk.

"I think I can be of help." Keeter reached into a manila folder and pulled out some photo print pages. "These pictures were taken by a keyhole satellite at the time of the attack against our F-18 squad. The same base we've been monitoring for the last few days as the Silkworm site, launched the SAM attack."

"Isn't that the same base with the DF-31A missiles?" Harm studied the photos intensely.

"Sure is." Keeter answered. "We're not sure if they've transported the warheads yet. Even if they have, bunker-busters aren't typically part of an arsenal for an Alpha Strike, so the risk of hitting nuclear material is almost nil. What we _may_ succeed in doing is removing the threat posed by both the Silkworms and the DF-31A site. It would however make a retaliatory strike against Russia or our base in Okinawa more likely."

"What are we talking in terms of casualties?" Harm looked down the table at his Army Intelligence expert, a bird colonel named May.

"Well, sir, there are three scenarios." She started. "A clean strike against the base which is our best option, would hit no residual explosive material and likely kill one to two hundred military personnel and no civilians in the surrounding area. If the preliminary strike were to hit secondary explosive targets, casualties could elevate to the neighbourhood of eight hundred to one thousand personnel. If however we in anyway compromise the nuclear material at the site, we could expect a Chernobyl like scenario that would affect the surrounding population."

"What is the likelihood that we would hit all the missile threats?" Harm looked to his Air Force aide this time. The young Air Force office squared his jacket before addressing his CO.

"Well, dismantling the Silkworm sites and the SAM sites would be the least difficult task. Because the silo construction for the DF-31s is still ongoing, it works in our favour but the armour on those missiles is quite considerably tougher than a silkworm or a SAM." Sanders leaned on to the table.

"I need odds, Sanders." Harm demanded.

"I'd say four to one, sir. If we could use the B-2, our odds would improve drastically, but I doubt we've that kind of time." The young Air Force officer made sure measurement of his Commander's temperament.

"I've got provisional authority over SAC on this one. Because the DEFCON has been raised to three, as theatre commander I can order those B-2 bombers into the air under the President's last order and his previous one outlining the rules of engagement. Where the B-2s be in an hour if I were to give the order now, Admiral Keeter?" Harm cracked his knuckles and leaned back in his chair.

"Somewhere over Northern Arizona, sir." Keeter answered.

"Plenty of time to call them back. Alright, I'll call Whiteman Air Force Base and get the planes in the air. I don't think we'll need much more firepower than we can muster off the Air Wings of three carrier groups." Harm grinned quickly. "Kind of a surreal thing, to sit here, thousands of miles away, and knowingly order the deaths of hundreds of unsuspecting people who just happened to be wearing the wrong uniform."

"We're not there yet, Harm. The NCA still has to give you the order and then we still have to carry it out." Keeter motioned for their Marine Corps aide. "Lieutenant Colonel Phelps! If the President gives us an order to reinforce the position of NATO on the island of Taiwan, how many Marines can we put in place overnight?"

"Including both Marine Expeditionary Units currently deployed in the Pacific and the Marines from Okinawa? Between seven and eight thousand overnight." Phelps answered. "With orders from the President, you can get reinforcements from the Screaming Eagles and the 82nd which would raise our troop deployment levels."

"Well, we just need a plan for deployment over the next twenty-four hours. Anything after that will be handled by the JCS." Harm looked over the latest deployment statistics one last time before delegating responsibility to Sanders, Phelps and May to work out the step by step strike plan.

2445 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C

"Well, I was able to get the French President on board. That means that our NATO allies don't have to worry about any diplomatic crossed paths. I've spoken with President Petrov about the latest events and I got chewed out by the Chairman and ranking Republican on the Senate Foreign Relations Committee all in forty-five minutes." The President straightened his ties and looked to his wife. "If I'm not getting good at this job, at least I'm getting fast."

"You're getting good." She took the tie from him and proceeded to straighten it properly and dust off his shirt. "You never worry."

"What are you talking about? I've been a ball of nerves for the last week." Nate took her face in his hands.

"You never show it." She whispered lightly.

"It's for you, and the kids and the staff and the country. I'm calm, I'm cool and collected but I'd like nothing better than to shout at the top of my lungs right now." He smiled at her fondly. "I've got to go into the Oval and be the face of a nation of three hundred million. Their hopes and dreams, their future, hell their tomorrow is depending on my actions tonight." He moved his hands to envelope hers. "I'm doing this so that when I leave this great white prison, I can go back to Pennsylvania and one some distant porch swing, I can curl up with you and a blanket and finally, _finally_ give you the life you deserve."

"Never forget that I love you, and that you were born to do this." She ran a hand through his hair. "If you ever need help being strong, just ask." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. He smiled fondly at his wife before turning out of the room and heading back for the Oval. Along the way he ran into Charlie first, but it seemed likely that most members of senior staff would want a few seconds before he went on the air.

"Mr. President, I spoke with Senators Gonzalez and Crozier, I think a preliminary whip count on the expanded use of force gives us 70-30." Charlie began.

"Eight Republicans joined us?" The President inquired.

"No, thirty-eight Republicans joined thirty-two Democrats." Charlie informed the President.

"You're telling me that I can't even whip half of my own Senators? That's a reassuring sentiment for our upcoming First 100 Days." The President rolled his eyes. "At the same time, it's the perfect opportunity to trumpet unprecedented bipartisan cooperation."

"Once they see the whip count, we'll pull fifteen Democrats back into the fold, I think." Charlie theorized as they reached the door to the Oval.

"Fifteen's good, but I'd like to see you pull eighteen." The President told his staffer. "Means we've got fifty Democrats."

"New Senators are a little shaky on authorizing the use of force, but we should be able to get Sullivan, Diaz and Capetti for the first vote on January 5th." Charlie assured his President. Nate nodded and pushed the door open to the Oval. Just as he did, Morley handed him the last draft of his address to the country.

"Knock'em dead, Mr. President." The unusually cheery Communications Director chirped

"Thought we were trying to avoid that, Morley." The President grinned as he slipped into the office. Gunny was the last line of preparation between the President and the cameras. Nicole and the kids slipped into the office through the door from the Chief of Staff's office. The aides attached the microphone to the President's tie and checked the lighting in the camera. The last draft of the speech was handed to the man running the teleprompter after the President had okayed it.

"You a little tired of hearing how this could make or break your Presidency, sir?" Gunny asked as the President took a seat behind the desk.

"At this moment, I could give a damn about my legacy. I want peace, without appeasement and with honour. If peace is my legacy, than I can ask for no more." The drapes were half drawn behind him. The President looked over to Gunny who was standing by the phone-line connection to the Situation Room. "Gunny, tell Harm that the order is go." Gunny picked up the phone and repeated the words of the President into the phone. Seconds later in the Situation Room, the Secretary of Defence relayed the order to Admiral Harmon Rabb, who already had the strike prepared. He relayed the order to his skippers who sent their Air Wings out of their holding patterns and off to strike.

Back in the oval office, there was one last sound check and a check of the teleprompter before the feed from the White House interrupted regularly scheduled broadcasting. The producer of the broadcast motioned to the President. Nate looked right into the camera. "Good evening, my fellow Americans."

0139 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE SITUATION ROOM

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Harm had given the order forty minutes earlier. The live audio feed from the _USS Abraham Lincoln_ echoed through the Situation Room. On the big screen at the end of the room, the President's address was playing on CNN. Two Republicans in the room, high profile Republicans, were both impressed. CIA Director Clayton Webb and Deputy Secretary of Defence Tom Boone both felt incredibly proud to serve. The Secretary of State looked worn to a frazzle. For her first twelve days on the job, she wasn't doing too badly. In the place of the leadership of the President of the United States, were his two closest NSC advisors, Secretary of Defence A.J. Chegwidden and National Security Advisor Mike Bradley.

Victor Galindez walked into the Situation Room and looked around at the long faces. "What do we know and when will we know it?" Gunny took his seat.

"Approximately three minutes ago, the Air Wings of the carriers _Stennis, Lincoln _and _Washington_ hit the Chinese military base at Fujian off the coast of the Taiwan Strait. Preliminary reports indicate that the combined strength of these Air Wings has eliminated the missile constructs for a dozen Chinese Silkworm missiles and a half a dozen surface to air missile sites. Because of the timing of the attack, early estimates of casualty numbers suggest are about two hundred. The firepower of these attacks has likely left the DF-31 sites in disrepair but the missiles are likely unharmed." The Secretary of Defence looked up at the Chief of Staff over his glasses.

"Gunny, where's the President right now?" Mike Bradley walked over to the table from the place where he had been standing next to the wall.

"When I left him, he was saying goodnight to his kids and then he was about to take a call from the Prime Minister of India." Gunny answered.

"Isn't that a phone call that I should really be in on?" The Secretary of State looked slightly confused.

"Yeah, one thing that Secretary Wallace used to have a problem with was that the President, as a former Secretary of State, tends to take the bull by the horns when it comes to foreign policy. A lot of it tends to forego Foggy Bottom, so you're going to be asked to tend to foreign policy problems from the White House rather then from Truman." Gunny leapt right in.

"Does anyone find it odd that on one end of this conversation playing the role of my Football carrier is Major Sergei Rabb and on the other end of this conversation playing the role of the Commander of United States Military Forces in the Pacific is his brother Admiral Harmon Rabb." The President decided this was the best way to make his presence known. "Mike, get me Admiral Rabb on the video comm." The National Security Advisor motioned to one of his aides and they pulled up the video link to the Pacific Headquarters. Jack Keeter appeared on the other end of the video link.

"Rear Admiral Keeter, it's good to be speaking with you again." The President smiled up at the screen, his hands fixed firmly on his hips. "Where's Admiral Rabb?"

"He left on a hop to the _Stennis_ about fifteen…twenty minutes ago, Mr. President." Jack Keeter answered, his posture fixed to perfect attention.

"Admiral Keeter, are you trying to tell me that my chief military commander in a hot theatre of operations in going to be incommunicado until he lands on an aircraft carrier that was just involved in an attack on a Chinese air base?" The President nodded his head slowly, the sarcasm building in his tone ever so gradually. "Is there anything good in what I just said?"

"Not really, sir. No." Keeter hung his head.

"Alright, what's our prelim?" The President turned to his Chief of Staff.

"Silkworms and SAM out of commission, approx. 200 military casualties from the assault and The B-2s are on course to destroy the DF-31 missiles inside the next few hours. The estimated ETA is half an hour either side of 0715 ZULU." Gunny told his boss.

"Alright, well I just got off the phone with the Prime Minister of India who just gave me a very nice, if very early, Christmas present. He has agreed to make a public statement tomorrow in opposition to this latest Chinese aggression and stand in support of the United States and the Russian Federation. While two nuclear powers may not be enough to scare of the PRC, three who represent a full third of the population of the world likely should. Clayton, do we have any intelligence assets that can receive an overture from Beijing?" The President leaned forward on the table.

"Well yes, sir but the chances are good that the overture will come through an intermediary." Director Webb informed the President.

"Okay, who's the most likely intermediary?" Nate turned his gaze on the CIA Director.

"The Vatican." Webb replied.

"You're kidding me." The President feigned shock. "They're going to talk to the Papal Nuncio in Beijing?"

"Probably because the Politburo would have some idea that you would be forced to a greater compliance because as a Catholic, you have a greater reverence for the Vatican." Webb stopped tapping his pen.

"My wife tells me that it's one thing for me to convert to Catholicism, but it will be a whole other experience for my kids who will have been raised Catholic and will have gone through Catholic education. When I asked why, my wife told me it was because if you've been raised Catholic, you've been raised with a superpower and that is that you can feel guilty about anything." The President grinned lightly. "I'm going to yield diplomatic and negotiating authority to Admiral Rabb since he is the senior in-theatre authority."

"Pardon me, Mr. President, but I believe that the Ambassador to the PRC is the senior in-theatre operative at the moment." The Secretary of State intervened. "You already summoned the Ambassador to the White House, didn't you, sir?"

"Right after I heard about Lieutenant Arnason." The President answered. "Admiral Rabb knows me better and he's a truer emissary than I could ever hope an Ambassador to be."

"Yes, sir." A.J. Chegwidden affirmed as silence crept into the void of unspoken words.

"Plus, he's a Republican, so it's tough for the Senate to give us any real problems when we strike the deal on this one." The President added with another quick grin.

"It's always politics with you people." Secretary Chegwidden chuckled fondly.

"It's Washington, half the people in the city make their living from politics of one kind or another." Gunny answered. The radio feed from the _Lincoln_ stopped playing the background in the room. "Why did it stop?" Gunny looked to the National Security Advisor.

"Because they're back on the deck." Mike Bradley answered. "Now, the scary part beings because now we're into phoney war."

"Phoney war?" Gunny looked to his boss.

"It was a period of propaganda that stretched from the Nazi invasion of Poland until the beginning of the fighting in Norway. In a lot of ways it's the scariest part because no one knows what's coming next. Like waiting for the other terrifying shoe to drop." The President put a hand to his chin. "In this case, we're not sure that we want to know what comes next."

"Yes, sir." Gunny answered and the room went quiet.

0630 ZULU

USS JOHN C. STENNIS

NORTHERN TAIWAN STRAIT

The plane carrying the PACCOM, Admiral Harmon Rabb, arrived onboard the deck of the Stennis slightly behind schedule because they'd caught a bad headwind. Harm slid out of the Weapons Officer's seat of the F-18 and down on to the deck of the _Stennis_. "Admiral, sir. The skipper sent me out here to greet you, sir." A younger officer's voice greeted Harm. It sounded eerily familiar. Harm turned around to see the familiar frame of Major John Ricker. He was the squad leader for the Marines onboard the _Stennis_, it was a fair transfer after having spent more than two years carrying the football for the President.

"Major Ricker." Harm returned the salute before wrapping the young man in a hug. "So, how are things, Johnny-Reb?"

"Honestly, after a few years walking around Washington, it feels fucking great to strap on a cockpit and buzz some towers again." That south Texas twang was coming through as loud and clear as ever. "How about you, sir? The President keeping you busy?"

"Trying as hard as ever." Harm grinned. "You just run the mission over the Fujian?"

"Yes, sir." Reb affirmed.

"Well, come on, boy. Let's grab some chow and talk about it." Harm gave the Marine major a pat on the back and the two headed for the wardroom.


	64. The China Syndrome

_A/N: Alright, I know I promised regular updates but the considerable time it takes to string together one of these chapters just could not be worked into my summer schedule despite my most fervent efforts. I shall try and be more prompt with future offerings now that I have the time and set up restored to a more conducive atmosphere. Just think of the last few months as summer re-runs._

"I don't think there's a janitor's closet on the island of Taiwan that I haven't promised official American support to." Harm grinned as he stepped back into the American consulate. "So, am I the de facto American ambassador of what's the State Department line on this one?"

"I just think you're the President's point man on this issue, buddy." Keeter chuckled.

"Admiral Rabb, Cardinal Vittorio Spagnuolo to see you, sir." Colonel May addressed her commanding officer.

"Cardinal Spagnuolo?" Harm inquired, now slightly curious.

"The Papal Nuncio to Taipei, sir." Colonel May answered, roughly peeling her garrison cap from her head.

"Is there some reason that the Vatican Ambassador to Taipei would want to see me, Admiral Keeter?" Harm turned to his top aide and oldest friend.

"None that I can think of, sir." Keeter smirked.

"Send him in, Colonel May." Harm nodded to the door. Scant few seconds after Colonel May left, a short greying, jolly man came through the door in a thick black cassock and red circle cap on his head.

"Admiral Rabb, it's a pleasure to meet you." The little Italian man extended his hand.

"Thank you, your eminence. It's nice to meet you as well." Harm fumbled for a second. "If that's how I'm supposed to address you, I'm not sure, my daughter would know."

"Your daughter is Catholic?" The Cardinal questioned.

"She goes to a Catholic school." Harm replied.

"Well, these things take time." The old Italian chuckled. "I have come with a message for you from the Holy Father. I have heard you have the ear of the President."

"I like to think I've had the ear of the man for the better part of the last ten years." Harm answered, still slightly curious of his visitor. "But so does Cardinal McCullough, your colleague in Washington, I don't know why the message must be relayed through me. Or even why the Pope doesn't call the President himself."

"Because neither the Holy Father nor Cardinal McCullough have the intermediary position of the government of the PRC handy." Cardinal Spagnuolo took a seat. "As Papal Nuncio to Taipei, I'm the primate for the whole of the Catholic Church in China. Because of certain laws on the mainland regarding the practice of Catholicism I must sit here in Taipei rather than in Beijing. But much like your diplomatic corps, we have our hierarchy and information on a sensitive matter such as this flows through me."

"You speak pretty good English, padre." Keeter cut in.

"Educated at Oxford and the Sorbonne, young man. You must realize that the Catholic clergy far exceeds both the complete disgrace of paedophilia scandal and the rampant stupidity of the DaVinci Code." The Cardinal turned a slight bit of frustration Keeter. "This has come to me from the Politburo through a Monsignor friend of mine who works in Beijing. The language of it is a little long on the tongue, but the basic gist is that the mainland would be willing to sit down and talk with representatives of your government in order to maintain good relations and restore peace."

"What are the conditions?" Harm wasn't buying the good guy act from the PRC. "There's always a catch."

"They appear to be quite adamant that no matter of internal Chinese politics be raised as an issue at these peace discussions." The Cardinal crossed his ankles.

"See, this is where we get into choppy seas, because I'm sure that the Chinese have a different conception of what constitutes internal Chinese politics than do the NATO allies." Harm paced the floor.

"NATO?" The Cardinal was now on the slight defensive.

"Yes, the new Prime Minister of Great Britain as well as the Chancellor of Germany, the President of France and the Prime Minister of Canada have all come out in support of the United States and the Russian Federation. The NATO Council just gave unanimous approval to the protection of sovereignty in and around the island of Taiwan. Infringement on that sovereignty would now constitute an act of war against the NATO allies." Harm crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"I was caught unaware of this latest development. You realize of course that this latest deployment of Marines to the island has done more to raise tensions than to lower them." The Cardinal leaned forward. "I imagine that the Chinese would be averse to discussing matters of sovereignty as it pertains to Taiwan and Hong Kong."

"Due respect to your eminence, suppositions aren't helpful right now." Keeter intervened again. "We've got a deployment of 10,000 Russians that are about to start setting down at the airport and we've got to meet up with our allies."

"Yes, and I must talk with my contact in Beijing to see if we might be able to establish communications between Beijing and Washington along this channel." The clergyman gave a quick pat to the leather arms of the chair. "I should request an audience upon my return."

"I'll speak to you then your eminence." Harm nodded to the man in the cassock before retrieving his cover from the hat rack and heading to the door with Keeter and his staff.

1129 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Nate Ross opened his eyes slowly. He saw the loving eyes of his wife staring back at him. "You looked so peaceful." She batted her eyelashes at him lovingly.

"I dreamt that someone else was President." Nate grinned at her. "I never thought I'd see the day when more then half of the nations of the world recognized Taiwan as a nation separate from the PRC, especially without us leading the charge."

"How can your mind go right to politics this early in the morning? Especially with me naked in the bed?" She tossed him an impish smile and saw his eyes light up. As if to confirm that she was not teasing, he ducked under the covers and surfaced only momentarily with a much brighter smile. No sooner had the President taken to paying his wife some attention at this very early morning hour than did the door to their bedroom thunder open.

"Mr. President!" National Security Advisor Mike Bradley announced.

"Avert your eyes, Mike!" Nate commanded. Mike Bradley turned around.

"Where are you, sir?" The NSA looked slightly puzzled.

"Under the blanket." The President worked his way out. "You know, Mike, normally only the Chief of Staff gets walk-in privileges." The President tied up his bathrobe.

"Due respect, sir, I've known you for twenty-five years, that's five years longer than your wife. I think the Secret Service is pretty okay with me." Mike chortled. "Anyway, it's not as if I haven't walked in on you and the First Lady before."

"As I recall, you were the first one, what's the big problem that required my immediate attention at 0630 in the morning?" The President stuffed his hands in the pockets of his robe.

"The Chinese have to come to us with an olive branch for the cessation of hostilities in the Pacific." The National Security Advisor began to explain.

"What kind of olive branch?" Nate and Mike moved out into the hallway.

"Well, this is coming from Admiral Rabb who was in discussions with a Cardinal Spagnuolo who got it from a Chinese Monsignor in Beijing who got it from a member of the Politburo who got it from the Chinese Premier." Mike Bradley readied himself for a misguided bit of President wrath that he knew was imminent.

"So, they want peace just so long as it doesn't look like _they_ actually _want_ peace." The dominant vein in the President's neck was throbbing. "I swear to God, mornings like this one make me wish I owned stock in Bayer."

"What should I tell Admiral Rabb, sir?" The National Security Advisor moved with the President toward his closet.

"I think you should tell Admiral Rabb that he should consult with the CIA Station Chief in Taipei and find out a little more about how to confirm a legitimate source of intelligence and we'll see if we can't make peace out of Phoney War after all." The President slid on a polo shirt. "Anything else new on the international front this morning?"

"Pakistan invaded India." Mike blurted out.

"You've got to be shitting me." The President's face went paler than a ghost. The two men stared at each other for a few seconds before Mike began to laugh.

"Just keeping you on your toes, buddy." Mike chuckled loudly and Nate began to breathe yet again.

"I swear to God, Mike, do that to me again and I'll sick the IRS on you with orders to audit." The President pulled on his slacks. "Did you know that even in the middle of an international crisis, Gunny expects me to meet with some Minnesota Girl Scout troupe?"

"Have to give the appearance of business as usual?" Mike headed for the door.

"Webb knows about this, right?" The President moved toward the door as well.

"Are you kidding, sir? The amount of coffee that man has gone through since he found out his morning is qualified as obscene in twelve states." The two men exited the room and headed down the hallway toward the West Wing. The National Security Advisor coughed hard and pointed down to the floor. Nate looked down to see the donkey slippers that the kids had gotten him for his last birthday were still on his feet.

"Problem, Mr. National Security Advisor?" The President crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"No, sir, Mr. President." Mike straightened up and trotted ahead of Nate down the hall. Of course, once the President of the United States is out of bed, the Chief of Staff is among the first to see him and brief him on the coming day's schedule. Gunny approached from down the hall, his suit jacket open and waving loosely as he picked up speed. "Mr. President, I just ran into NSA Bradley jogging down the hall. I'm guessing you've been briefed on Taipei, sir?"

"You could say that, Gunny." The President nodded as Gunny handed him a few folders. "I'm guessing this is what we have on the Cardinal and the Chinese Monsignor?"

"Well, it's what Langley has been able to gather so far. We've got some highly placed sources in the PRC that should be able to give us a little more deep background on the two of them. We should be able to see how legitimate the connection is between the Politburo and this Monsignor. If it's legit, we can run with it." Gunny and the President pushed through the outer office of the Oval and into the inner sanctum of the Oval itself.

"Harm's our point man on this one. Make sure that the CIA gives him everything they can so he can give me a clear and objective analysis of what's going on and what our options are."

"Yes, sir." Gunny nodded and headed for the doorway to his office. "Anything else, sir?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna need a list of nominees to replace General Fitzpatrick as Chairman of the JCOS. Talk with the SECDEF, the Joint Chiefs and bring the Vice President in on this one." The President took a seat behind the desk.

"Vice President-Elect, sir." Gunny corrected. "You've got to be careful not to slip up in front of the press."

"You've got a meeting with the congressional leadership and the GAO this morning, right?" The President eyed the schedule carefully.

"Yes, sir." Gunny nodded. "And you've got a meeting with the Secretaries of Treasury and Commerce and the OMB."

"Still trying to finalize a budget compromise?" The President chuckled. "I swear we should measure time in terms of budget cycles rather than calendar months."

0901 ZULU

USS JOHN C. STENNIS

KEELUNG CITY HARBOUR, TAIWAN

Admiral Harmon Rabb stood on Vulture's Row overlooking the flight deck. It was one thing about international crises, if no one was stupid enough to escalate it, cooler heads usually prevailed. Vice Admiral Jack Keeter was conducting a few follow up briefings with the CIA to establish a controlled source. So far, the CIA had been able to establish the link as far back as the Monsignor without much problem. It was connecting him to anyone, even on the janitorial staff, at the Politburo would be notoriously tough. It was the kind of thing Keeter would be good for. All those years working with Webb really rubbed off on him.

"Got a cigar for a world weary Marine bird, sir?" A slow southern drawl announced from behind him.

"Missions over for the night, Major?" Harm closed his lips around the cigar.

"Yes, sir. And didn't you tell the Justice that you'd stopped smoking them things, sir?" Johnny Reb chuckled lightly.

"What're you getting at, Ricker?" Harm's smile left for a second.

"Just that silence has its price, sir." Reb gave him that sly grin and Harm reluctantly handed him a cigar. Reb bit off the end and lit the cigar.

"Sergei and Anna are getting married." Harm spoke as if speaking to no one particular.

"You know what never ceases to surprise me is that how when you're ten thousand miles from home, the news you never want to hear never fails to reach you." Reb chortled caustically. "Yeah, I heard about it."

"I thought they were friends of yours?" Harm peaked a curious eyebrow.

"You know, I think that would be an interesting question to answer." Reb assumed a very theatrical voice. "Someone asks me how I know the happy couple and I answer truthfully. I say, well when we were at the Academy, I was best friends with the groom. But a little over a year ago, when we were at sea, I had sex with the bride. Oh yeah, I'll be real popular. Sergei will punch me; Anna will slap me and the only person who'll be able to talk to me without shouting will be Mikey Roberts."

"It's not that bad. Anna was single when all that happened. Sergei still considers you a friend, even if you are one at arm's length and like you said, at least you'll be able to talk to Mikey." Harm smiled and gave the young Marine Major a pat on the back. "You've got a DFC, a Purple Heart and a Marine uniform. You'll be at a wedding with a bunch of single women. Put two and two together on this one and remember what my wife would say."

"What's that, sir?" The Marine puffed a large cloud of smoke.

"A good Marine takes advantage of every chance he gets." Harm blew a cloud of smoke himself.

"Amen, sir." Reb leaned his elbows back down on the rail.

"Don't you mean, oohrah, Major?" Harm corrected light-heartedly.

"That too, sir." Reb had to laugh. No one with any real sense could deny that Admiral Rabb and his wife were good sensible people. This meant there had been a significant change in them if the stories that Bud Roberts were actually true. Reb stared down at the cigar only to realize that he was almost finished his cigar. Normally he couldn't finish one in one sitting but somehow, standing out here talking with the Admiral and working out a few issues had taken his focus completely off his cigar. He dropped it to the deck and crushed it out. "Good cigar. Where'd you get them?"

"President of the Dominican Republic on a visit to Washington." Harm answered without even needing to rack his brain.

"You're kidding." Reb was forced to laugh that such a sentence could be said in such a nonchalant way.

"Wish I was, seems like every time a foreign dignitary arrives from a cigar producing country, the President calls me to the White House and I get some cigars. I've got quite a humidor after four years." Harm crushed out his own cigar. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a major international incident to prevent. I'm sure I'll run into you again."

"Of course." Reb heard him move toward the hatch. "But Admiral," Harm turned around, "maybe some Honduran stogies next time?" Harm laughed to himself as he disappeared into the bowels of the ship. He was intercepted by his Army Intelligence liaison and quickly followed her to the Officer's Wardroom where he found Keeter, his other aides and the Taipei CIA Station Chief pouring over a table full of documents.

"What is it? What did you find?" Harm put both hands down flat on the table.

"It's kind of thin but it will have to do." Keeter laid both files down on the table in front of Harm. "Back in 1989, this source of the Chinese Monsignor's was in the same PLA unit as the current Chief of Staff of the PLA. This unit was the same one assigned with crushing the protests in Tiananmen Square. Harm, they're Army buddies."

"You're sure?" Harm questioned, this time looking at the CIA Station Chief.

"We're about as sure on this as we can be with anything involving the PRC. It's a lot of circumstantial evidence and a little bit of experience with human interaction." The Station Chief cracked his knuckles.

"Is it strong enough to take to the President?" Harm looked back at the aged spy with something of a challenge in his eye.

"It's not getting any stronger unless we get something of a minor miracle." The Station Chief answered while lifting himself out of his chair. "It's your call, Admiral."

Harm thought for a second, staring hard down at the files in front of him. There was a lot hanging on this decision. Move too fast and you look weak and eager for peace. Move too slowly and you look aggressive and hungry for war. But it was always better to have peace and not send someone off to die, than war and a hazy objective with thousands of lives on the line. "Colonel May, get me a comm. link to the Situation Room."

"Aye, sir." The Colonel nodded and headed for communications.

1441 ZULU

THE SITUATION ROOM

WASHINGTON. D.C.

The President and the Secretary of the Treasury walked into the Situation Room to find most of the National Security Council sitting around the table. "Alright, I just got pulled out of a three hour marathon budget meeting for the fourth time. The first three times, I didn't really care because we were talking about spending cuts that I was completely in favour of. But see, this time we were talking about healthcare, and being as I'm a good boy, I figure that all Americans are entitled to it. So, this better be important."

"We think we've found a link between the Chinese Monsignor's source and the PLA Chief of Staff." Clayton Webb told the President.

"Okay, how strong is the link and just what do you mean by _we_, Clayton?" Nate threw himself down into the chair.

"He means us, Mr. President." Harm appeared behind a desk on the video screen. "Vice Admiral Keeter, myself, my aides and our resident spook came up with the link. It's circumstantial and shaky but reasonable intelligence says it's as good as we're going to get."

"What's the link?" The President asked.

"The source was in the same PLA unit as the current PLA Chief of Staff back in 1989." Harm began.

"So what?" The President questioned, thus far unconvinced.

"Sir, it was the same unit that crushed the protests in Tiananmen Square." Harm answered the President's inquiry rather bluntly. A thick silence hung in the air in the Situation Room as the President stared at the screen waiting for Harm to continue. "Sir, I know that you and many other men in this room have been in combat and seen some things that you don't talk about but you never forget the men that were with you when that happened. Now, I don't profess to know how close these two men are. But I don't think that you forget the face or name of someone who's by your side when you go through hell."

"Harm, I don't like to hang command decisions on circumstantial evidence, are you sure this is as much as we can come up with?" The President had directed the question at Harm but it was another voice who answered.

"Sir, getting highly placed government sources inside the PRC is notoriously difficult. Even getting this source that we have now is an accomplishment. Over the last forty-eight hours, he's shown no signs of being anxious or pressured which is what one would usually attribute to an impostor." Mike Bradley was sitting to the President's left.

The President thought for a second. His chin resting uneasily on the index finger of his right hand. "I'd like to have more information but moving for peace sure as hell beats the alternative. I'll call the Russians, Madam Secretary of State I want you to call the Europeans and Harm, you get Cardinal Spagnuolo out to the Stennis as fast as you can to set this up. I want a progress report on what we've got on this end by 1900 EST. Harm, get back to me ASAP, okay?"

"Aye, sir." Harm gave a nod.

"Alright, let's hope we finally have some light at the end of the tunnel." The President got up from the table. "Gunny, tell the guys from OMB and Commerce that I have to reschedule the rest of this meeting and have my secretary get President Petrov on the phone. Also, tell her to be sure to send flowers to the grave of the former Vice President."

"Why the flowers, sir?" Gunny questioned.

"It's the first anniversary of the shooting, Gunny." The President answered as the two men made for the door. The Chief of Staff slid a subconscious hand to the scar where the bullet had entered his body.

"It doesn't seem like that long ago." He stated.

"No, it never does." The President answered.

2103 ZULU

USS JOHN C. STENNIS

KEELUNG CITY HARBOUR, TAIWAN

The news of the arrival of a Cardinal onboard the ship seemed to spread pretty quickly. Every Catholic on board seemed to clamour to get a glimpse of the clergyman in his red cassock as he made his way down off the helicopter. It was actually quite comical to see a short stout Italian man in a red cassock wearing the safety gear that came with riding on a chopper out to the carrier. Harm was out on the flight deck to greet him with a hearty handshake and he found the little man grinning from ear to ear.

"Did you enjoy the helicopter ride?" Harm asked.

"Not especially." The Cardinal answered.

"Than why are you smiling?"

"Peace should always make one smile." The Cardinal gave him a wise look and followed him to the wardroom.


	65. The Kind of Man My Father Is

The team from St. Greg's was doing their warm up drills before another big game. Brad had his helmet off and he was lazily playing with the puck, and working his way around his own defensemen. He fired a puck on net and skated over to the bench. He grabbed a water bottle and took a quick drink. Tim skated over and tapped him on the shoulder. Brad caught his eye and Tim pointed up into the stands. "Scouts, man."

"Already?! We're not even halfway through the season yet." Brad reached down in front of the boards and picked up his helmet.

"We did win state last year." Tim pointed out.

"Yeah, but we lost two seniors to high school and our best goalie and top defenseman to Virginia High School last summer. Who're the scouts?" Brad was catching his breath.

"Looks like locals, probably just O'Connell, Ireton and Paul VI. We're in trouble if the Shattuck or Virginia scouts come back." Tim chuckled. "Everyone seems to be out to impress when they find out those scouts are in the building. They forget to settle and just play the game."

"Maybe they're doing advanced scouting on me, never know." Brad punched his brother in the shoulder. "I'm on pace for 22 goals and 25 assists in 20 games this year. I'm an all-star."

"You're a walking ego." Tim countered. "You have the best coaches in the world and you're taller than most kids our age and you're surprised that you're a good player? At least you're a jock, 'cuz you're no brainiac."

"Hey, shut up." Brad punched him in the shoulder again.

"Come on; let's see if you perform the same when you know the scouts are watching as you would if it was just regular fans." Tim gave him a pat on the back and the two of them slid on their helmets and skated toward centre ice. The two teams sent their starting five out to take the opening face-off. Tim bent over to take the face off, his stick seemingly hovering over the ice. There was a hard slap of black vulcanized rubber hitting the ice and Tim brushed the puck back to the defence. Brad turned hard on his ankle and the defenseman fired a puck up ice to him. In an uncommon burst of speed (at least for a kid his age) Brad Ross was up ice and over the opposing blue-line. He dangled a pass around the defender, picked up the puck again, executed a spin and fired the puck under the crossbar for the first goal of the game.

The team mobbed him behind the net as Brad very tastefully celebrated only by raising his stick in the air. "Still an all-star, brother." Brad smiled and rubbed the top of Tim's helmet. Tim glanced up into the stands to see the scouts scribbling a few quick notes in their clipboards. The five St. Greg's players skated over to the bench to change lines and celebrate the goal. Brad tossed Tim a water bottle. "Just keep sending those passes my way and I'll return the favour. Stick with me, bro, and you'll be a star."

But Tim didn't hear him; he was too busy staring up into the stands. His eyes were locked on Sasha Rabb who was intently watching the game.

1148 ZULU

ONE OBSERVATORY CIRCLE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Senator Bobbi Latham-Turner stood outside the limousine on this freezing January morning in the District of Columbia. "So, in approximately five and a half hours you are going to be Vice President Sturgis Turner, the highest ranking African American _ever_ in the history of the United States government. That's sexy, you know that?"

"You're a little odd, my darling wife, a little odd." Sturgis laughed to himself. "And this is the biggest house we have _ever_ lived in."

"Well, it's not our residence until after you take the pledge." Bobbi corrected. "But it certainly is a bit of an awe inspiring sight, Mr. Vice President."

"Hey, don't jinx it. There are likely still a lot of people who aren't crazy about the idea that a black man could be a heartbeat away from the Presidency." He kissed her on the forehead. "Now, I've spent two months hiring staff, acquainting myself with my staff and learning to get with the program that emanates from the big White House on Pennsylvania Avenue."

"You know, you don't have to dance to the pied piper's tune on every issue. Some Presidents value disagreement and debate in private, just not in front of cameras." Bobbi began to explain as they filed back into the car. "Don't be so tense. I'm sure you'll see Bax and Harm enough that your comfort zone won't be too out of whack. Besides, Harriet Roberts works for the First Lady, A.J. Chegwidden is the Secretary of Defence and Clayton Webb is the CIA Director. It won't be that much different from JAG."

"Yeah, being Vice President is just like being a Navy O-5 lawyer with a Shrek-sized caseload." Sturgis chortled merrily to himself.

"Shrek-sized?" Bobbi questioned.

"See what I mean about being a father? It's ruined my vocabulary." Sturgis laughed again. "But I love every second of it."

"Of course, because you're a good dad. I swear, between you and your academy buddies, you're going to turn it into a hip profession for young men." Bobbi joked with her husband. "It was nice of the First Lady to take little Izzy in this morning for a few hours. You know, I think you were just born lucky?"

"Why's that?" Sturgis asked.

"You know all these very good people. Just people who, at their core, live to be good to other people. Like Harm and Mac, or Bud and Harriet, A.J. and Beverley, Nathan and Nicole, Jennifer and Ethan or the ultimate one, Chaplain Matthew Turner." Bobbi put a comforting arm on his shoulder. "I know you're thinking about him, Sturgis, but it's a valve replacement, they do this kind of surgery quite frequently."

"It's not the surgery that I mind, it's the fact that there's something that I…you know, Dad spent his whole life doing nothing but teaching and preaching the good word. I know it sounds, immature but when these kinds of things happen to people like dad, it just makes me wonder about what kind of higher power really is in charge of this universe." Sturgis shook his head. "Sorry, it's just frustrating."

"I know." Bobbi kissed his cheek. "You know, when I started in Congress an old law school professor of mine from Yale sent me a replica of an old map of the United States from 1834. It looked stained and burned around the edges and there was an arrow pointing to Washington D.C. with three words next to it: _hic sunt dracones._"

"Here be dragons. Very funny." Sturgis grinned a little. "Is that your way of telling me to watch my back?"

"No, I've got your back. This is my way of telling you to keep your eyes open." Bobbi corrected her husband as the car headed back toward the White House.

1431 ZULU

RABB HOME

GREAT FALLS, VIRGINIA

Harm straightened the tie on Tommy just as Mac was bringing Matt downstairs. "Listen, I'm going to be up on the dais today, so just make sure you keep an eye on Sasha and Tommy and don't drop Matt, okay?" Mac smiled at her husband and put her finger on the tip of his nose. "Your mom and Frank will be there so you'll have a little bit of a supporting cast in this little endeavour."

"Mac, I'm the commander of American Pacific Forces." Harm countered.

"And you think that enables you to take care of a ten year old, a seven year old and an eighteen month old at one time?" Mac placed her hands on her hips.

"I am also their father." Harm moved toward his wife. He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. Mac draped her arms around him.

"It's good to have you home, you know that?" She whispered delicately. "All these years of having you pinned behind a desk, never more than thirty miles from home, I kind of forgot how I get when you go out to a carrier."

"Run into anything out on the carrier?" Mac and Harm walked into the kitchen.

"Ran into John Ricker." Harm took a seat at the table and Mac slid him a cup of coffee.

"How's the only pilot that could go toe to toe with Harmon Rabb in a daredevil competition?" Mac grinned as she stirred some sugar into her own coffee.

"Sure that if he comes to Sergei and Anna's wedding, Sergei will break his nose." Harm answered and took a sip of his coffee.

"Did you tell him that won't happen?" Mac sat across the table from him.

"Not exactly." Harm shook his head slightly from side to side.

"Why not?" Mac inquired.

"Because Sergei might break his nose." Harm set the cup down on the table.

"He won't." Mac counted.

"He might." Harm retorted. "I would've broken Brumby's if he'd come to our wedding."

"You weren't Mic's friend." Mac pointed out.

"Which actually gives Sergei all the more reason to bust his nose. It's one thing to have someone you hate betray you. It hurts even more if it's a friend." Harm argued. "I can't say I'd blame Sergei for hitting him."

"Harm, they've been friends for years." Mac's voice was soothing and maternal, it was a tool she'd developed over the last few years and found it extremely effective in all manner of situations. "Sergei can't be that mad, Johnny was the one who told him the truth when Anna couldn't bring herself too, that's got to count for something. How long could you stay mad at Keeter or Bax if they'd done something like this?"

"About as long as Keeter was mad at me." Harm chuckled to himself again.

"Exactly…wait, what was Keeter mad at you for?" Mac was all of a sudden very curious.

"Keeter was the first to set his eye on Diane back when we were at the Academy. But he was a little slow to act and I kind of moved in without thinking." Harm shrugged defensively.

"Typical Rabb, tripping into romance." Mac laughed aloud. "Go on."

"Well for about six weeks, Keeter was really pissed off at me before I figured out why. Well, I didn't really figure it out, Sturgis explained it to me. After trying to make things right, it was still another six weeks before Keeter would talk to me about something that wasn't school related." Harm shook his head from side to side. "Enough about that, let's get the kids and head into the city, huh?" He beamed a smile at his wife. "Kids!"

"We have names, dad!" Sasha called back from the living room.

"Don't get cute with me……daughter." Harm taunted his daughter with a smile on his face. Seconds later he was met with stomping feet and muttering in Russian as Sasha entered the kitchen. "We've got to go into the city."

"I know." Sasha answered.

"Well are you ready?" Harm crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"I only have to put my boots on." Sasha replied, still a biting edge to her voice.

"Okay then, let's go." Harm gave the table a solid thump with his hands and the Rabb family headed for the car.

1657 ZULU

US CAPITOL BUILDING

WASHINGTON, D.C

Anyone who has ever had to attend one inauguration ceremony at the Capitol (much less two) will testify that God intentionally makes the twentieth of January the coldest day of the year in order to punish the politicians who are forced to attend. Sturgis Turner sat next to his wife on the dais, his large hand clasped around her much smaller one. Somehow, he felt a little out of place. He'd spent his career as a sailor and a lawyer, very little of that prepared him to be where he was. He looked over and saw the President and First Lady chatting with each other like nothing was out of the ordinary. Compared to the animated and vibrant scene across the aisle, he figured that he and Bobbi must look wooden and out of place.

"Are they always like that?" Sturgis pointed across the aisle.

"Pretty much." Bobbi nodded. "I've heard some people say that the First Lady has to be every bit as willing to be President as the President is. It just takes up so much of her life. He's got to be tough and calculating but she can be his softer side, his humanity. For eight years, they have to be the two sides of the same coin."

"You could say all marriages have to be that way." Sturgis countered. "I like to think that we're that way."

"We are, but I think I'm the tough, calculating one." Bobbi laughed. The President's Own, the Marine Corps band stopped playing and the Chief Justice of the United States stood at the end of the aisle. He motioned for Sturgis and Bobbi to stand and they did. The Chief Justice set the Bible in Bobbi's hands and took a deep breath. "Raise your right hand, place your left on the Bible." The Chief Justice instructed and Sturgis did so. "Now, repeat after me." And Sturgis took the oath.

"I, Sturgis Eli Turner, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic, that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same: that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion, and I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God." Four ruffles and flourishes were played and a chorus of _Hail Columbia_. Than at exactly noon, the President stood in much the same manner as he had four years earlier. The Bible was perched in Nicole Ross' hands. The Chief Justice nodded at the President. Nate didn't need prompting; the words from four years ago were etched across the surface of his brain like some divine engraving. But tradition indicated that he await the Chief's prompt. He placed his hand on the Bible and raised his other.

"I, Nathan Daniel Ross, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States." Nate nodded at the Chief Justice and shook his hand. A little known secret of Washington is that about a week after inauguration, young Presidents usually get a head cold because in an attempt to look young and vital they deliver their inaugural wearing only a regular double breasted jacket for warmth. Having been foolish enough to make that mistake at forty-two, Nathan Ross was not so foolish to make the same mistake again at forty-six.

Bad Presidents make you roll your eyes when they talk, mediocre Presidents can hold one's attention during major addresses like the State of the Union or an Inaugural, but good Presidents can capture anyone's attention and hold it for as long as they want it. In a way, it starts with Lincoln. 150 years after the Gettysburg address and people still quote it. Than it was Wilson, than Roosevelt, than Kennedy and finally Reagan, good Presidents don't capture an audience, they harness a part of the American psyche and that part is uniquely and forever identified with that man.

Sitting in his chair, listening to the man that he felt he had come to know over the last months on the campaign trail, Sturgis couldn't help but think he was witnessing one of those moments. He looked to his right and saw his wife, looking proud and noble and somehow, hungry for a fight as the President outlined a plan to provide universal healthcare for American children. He looked to his left and saw Nicole Ross. There was no mistaking her pride. It was a subtle kind of pride; the kind earmarked by only a mild glow from her cheeks and the smallest of grins crossing her lips.

His last look was out into the see of faces below the steps of the Capitol. There were large smiles and serious faces all around the building but everyone seemed captivated by the man at the podium. In some ways it was a little like being in high water, not so high that you're drowning but just high enough that your eyes are level with the surface of the water. You can see and feel everything and yet all you feel is overwhelmed.

At the end of the speech, the President and his wife stood up and motioned for Sturgis and Bobbi to walk with them as they took the route down from the dais to Pennsylvania Avenue. As they walked the route from the Capitol to the White House, they waved at crowds. "Just remember, we've got to have lunch with Congress today." Traditionally, because of the cold and the security considerations, the entire route isn't walked, so at the end the Presidential party climbed into a limousine and was escorted through the gate. Sturgis' phone rang.

"Hello." He answered in a very chipper mood. "Yes, this is Vice President Turner." He nodded and soon after his expression fell through the floor. "Yes, thank you, I'll be over there as soon as possible."

"What is it?" Bobbi inquired,

"My dad, there were complications in his surgery…he flat lined on the table…" He let out a loud sniffle. "They couldn't bring him back."

3 DAYS LATER

NATIONAL CATHEDRAL

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The Vice President, the new Vice President rather, had pulled some strings and reserved the National Cathedral for his father's funeral. Tradition dictated that, were the President to attend, he would be seated in the front pew. But, in order to accommodate immediate family, the President and his family moved to the far aisle side of the pew with security flanking both side and the Turner family members could occupy the aisle seats nearest the altar. Sturgis and Bobbi stood at the door greeting mourners and among the many mourners were people who had known Chaplain Turner during his military service. Friends of Sturgis' through the years and Bobbi's friends from Congress were in attendance.

Eventually the service started. A Navy Chaplain friend of Chaplain Matthew Turner's led what was a very touching service. He talked of the two of them going through training together, what was at the time segregated training. He talked of Korea and Vietnam and the tough times that the service presented for the young men of its call. Then he talked about after the wars, when the men came home. Many of them changed and broken human beings, desperate for hope, desperate for the light of God. It was those times when a man's bond with God needed to be especially iron clad, especially if he were to council his brothers.

When the time came, the chaplain called on Sturgis to step up to the lectern and deliver the eulogy. The long tall form of Sturgis Turner ascended from the pew in the front row and walked the short trip up the steps on to the altar. He stood behind the lectern and cleared his throat. With tears in his eyes, he looked over the crowd and saw a sea of expectant faces staring back at him. "Any child of a preacher will tell you that having a social life is tough. You know the stereotype; Preacher's Kids are wild children, the result of a strict upbringing. I won't say it was never tough being my father's son, but I will say that not a day goes by where I don't thank God for my dad. I am the man I am, because of my father and I hope to raise my son to be a good man; if I do, it will be because of the lessons I took from my father."

"In many ways, my father's most enduring legacy will be things for which the world shows no recognition. In the last few days, I have heard more about my father's wisdom, his compassion or even just his ability to provide simple comfort by listening than I could have ever expected. What made my father so amazing was that he never judged anyone. In the fight for Civil Rights, he never judged his oppressors. In Vietnam, he never treated a man less humanely because of his politics. At home, he could take into confidence an adulterer or a liar without muttering an ill word. I remember when I was young, I would get so mad if some kid picked on me or insulted one of my friends. I'd come home and threaten to hit the kid the next day. But in that way my father had, he could put a heavy hand on my shoulder, guide me to a chair and say "Sturgis, the Lord says to love every man, even those who wrong you because we are all the children of God." Sturgis sniffled loudly, stroked his chin and continued. "As much as he was a man of God, he was a man of honour and everything I ever learned about service and duty and integrity, I learned at the knee of my father."

"For the joys of his life, I am thankful. I am thankful that he got to know his grandson." Sturgis had to laugh to himself. "What little of a twenty month-old child there is to know. I've learned from watching my son Isaiah that he and my father see the world in much the same way. In many ways, it makes me the chiselled cynic of the family. I'm glad that my son got to know his grandfather for however brief a period of time. I hope he absorbed as much of the benefits of my father's wisdom as he could in what little time they had to get to know each other. I am thankful that my father got to see me happy, as his only son, I know it was his one abiding wish." Sturgis reached over and touched the casket.

"I remember, at the Academy I once heard an old English proverb. Late one night, a son is knelt by his bedside after a hard day. He turns his head to the heavens. His bedroom door his open and his father stands in the doorway listening. The boy says 'Dear God, please just make me the kind of man my father is.' On the edge of tears, the father staggers into his room and throws himself down before God and says 'Lord, oh Lord, make me the kind of man my son wants me to be.' I hope one day I pass that test." Sturgis told the crowd. "Because my father sure did."

2213 ZULU

ONE OBSERVATORY CIRCLE

WASHINGTON, D.C

Sturgis Turner stood outside overlooking the grounds of the Vice Presidential home. Inside the mourners had gathered to pay their respects to the family. Bobbi was cordial to those who wished to stand alongside her family in this hard time. Outside, Sturgis just walked the grounds staring at his feet. "Now, the Chaplain Turner I know wouldn't want his son out here pouting. What was it he told us when Diane died? A life is not to be mourned…"

"But celebrated." Sturgis nodded and greeted Harm with a fraternal bear hug. "It's tough to believe he's gone. It's even tougher to believe that I chose to spend less time with him than I should have."

"Sturgis, you were a good son. The eulogy you gave today was proof enough of that. Hell, you made Mac cry." Harm and Sturgis both had a bit of a chuckle at that one.

"Are you two still out here?" Mac, almost as if hearing her name in the previous conversation came out of the house. Mac gave Sturgis a big hug. "I am sorry."

"I know." Sturgis nodded back at her.

"But Sturgis consider the good memories you have. You have forty-odd years of good memories of your father. I don't have any good memories of my father and Harm lost his father before he could really appreciate the good man he was. If you focus only on what you lost, what the world lost, when Matthew Turner died, you'll never be able to really appreciate what you had when he was with us." She wrapped her arm around her husband's waist. The little group outside was soon joined by both Bax and Keeter who offered their support and encouragement to him. Soon after, the most conspicuous guest at the house came to join them

"Sturgis," the President started, "I know it's an incredibly odd thing to do to try and help someone else through a tough time by relating the tough times you yourself have had. But when my father died a few years ago, I went through a really tough time because I was in the middle of a campaign and I felt that I hadn't really been given the time to properly mourn my father. Late one night, I was on my laptop and I came across a very sage piece of advice. It said 'A father wants to live on through something – and in his case, his masterpiece is his son. All of us want that, and it gets more poignant as we get more anonymous in this world.' You are a measure of the kind of man your father was, of the kind of father he was. Because that is the case, because of the great man you are, it's very easy to say that Matthew Turner was the kind of father that the world needs more of. That's something to be celebrated, not mourned."

"Thank you, sir." Sturgis shook the President's hand.

"That having been said, I'm still sorry for so great a loss, Sturgis." The President nodded and the group that had gathered out on the grounds headed back to the house together, ready to stand by the side of their friend.

0205 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C

Nate and Nicole got home late from the Turner's. Nate pulled his tie off and tossed his jacket on the back of a chair. "You know, there are some days where having this job can be more of a burden than a blessing. Should I be worried if those days start happening more and more often?"

"I think so, but it's the only job where even if you do a good job, you get fired after eight years." Nicole beamed a smile at her husband.

"You're home!" Helene came running into the living room. "Guess what?!" She was smiling widely from ear to ear.

"You got a date for prom?" Nicole asked, playfully.

"No, but guess who just got early acceptance letters from her three top choices for college?" She threw herself down on the couch and pushed the sheets of paper into the hands of her aunt and uncle. The President first looked over the letter from Boston College, then the one from the University of Notre Dame and then the one from Georgetown.

"That's excellent, Helene." He gave her a hug.

"Congrats, sweetie." Nicole kissed her niece on the cheek.

"So, can I go look at the schools?" Her eyes pleaded silently with her guardians.

"Take your Aunt with you and don't try and get away from your protection detail, okay?" The President answered in a very paternal tone.

"Thanks." The teenager was clearly overwhelmed. "Uncle Nate, I've been thinking a few things over and well, I never really had one except for you and I was wondering, would it be okay if I called you 'dad'? I mean, after four years, it's kind of overdue I suppose." Trying to look nonchalant, the teenager shrugged.

The request hit Nate like a stun gun. Trying to fight the tears threatening to well up in his eyes, he nodded at her. "Whatever makes you feel comfortable." The teenager smiled again and headed off to her room.

"Amazing how that cycle of good fathers can keep on going." Nicole commented and kissed her husband on the cheek.


	66. His Principles Unto Death

_'Tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue __**his principles unto death."**__- Thomas Paine_

"You're bluffing." The President challenged, a half-smoked cigar dangling from his lips. "But you're a sly congressional bastard." The President threw down his cards and the Speaker of the House pulled in his winnings. "Where's Ed McLaren, he normally plays."

"He had a stroke, remember?" The Speaker grumbled.

"Right, I don't know how the hell I forgot that one." The President gave his head a shake.

"I don't know either, sir. Especially since reporters from CNN and MSNBC have been digging around all over the place to try and figure out who the White House supports to fill the vacancy as the head of the Democrats in the Senate. I've had to tell several reporters over the last several days that the White House does not get involved in congressional leadership races." Gunny shuffled the deck and dealt the next hand.

"Damn right." The Speaker nodded. "Off the record, who are you all backing?"

"Well, if it comes down to Almeida and Gonzalez, we're sure as hell not backing Gonzalez." Gunny grumbled. "We've got an agenda to push through before the end of April and we don't want it to be obstructed by a Senate Majority Leader who's running for President in a few years."

"Besides Almeida's more my kind of guy." The President munched on his cigar.

"Because he was the Senate Majority Whip?" The Speaker questioned.

"Because he's a tough kid from Jersey who grew up getting in street-fights. He's got more in common with average Americans than a preppy kid whose parents sent him to Stanford." The President puffed a large angry cloud of smoke.

"There are rumours that Senator Lawson might get into it." Gunny picked up his cards. "You know him, what's he got up his sleeve, Sam?"

"Tough to say, he's got connections to business types in East Texas that are usually pretty red Republicans, so he wouldn't be the White House's poodle. He'd be tougher on the GOP than Gonzalez. I think he mostly is just jockeying to become Senate Majority Whip in the event that Almeida wins." Sam Jordan tossed a few chips into the pot.

"Yeah, I'm not too keen on that either." The President shook his head.

"Got a better name in mind?" Sam Jordan raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"Martin Ordonez." The President looked deadly serious. "He's a senior Senator from a southwest state and if the caucus votes down Gonzalez but votes in Ordonez, we won't offend the Hispanic voters who helped give us an overwhelming majority back in November."

"Not a bad strategy. Charlie Scott help you think it up, sir?" The Speaker of the House gave the President a wise and knowing smile.

"Maybe a little bit. Think we can do anything, Sam? Full house, by the way, give me your money." The President tossed his cards in and raked in the pot with his hands.

"The White House can't, no. But I can talk to a few of my Senate brethren who can speak to a few of their comrades and see if we can't work it around a little. Almeida already has thirty votes by last count, so that part shouldn't be hard but Ordonez would be a little tougher." The Speaker crushed out his cigar in the ashtray.

"Sam, we've got approximately a hundred days to pass close to the same number of bills doing everything from creating universal child Medicare. To a complete tuition affordability plan. I'll take a little pain now to get the reward later." The President set the cards aside as the night was soon cleaned up after. "I trust we can work together, Sam?"

"As always, Mr. President." The Speaker nodded.

"By the way, Johnston's the Governor in Missouri, he's one of us. Who's he going to appoint to fill Ed's seat since Ed can't?" The President put the chips and cards away.

"Ed's son, you should be getting a visit from Brendan McLaren upon his arrival in Washington." Gunny interjected.

"Make sure he's scheduled to come in at the same time as the new Majority Leader and Majority Whip whenever they're elected, will you, Gunny?" The President and his friends walked out in the halls of the West Wing.

"Of course, Mr. President." Gunny nodded and headed with the Speaker in the direction of his car.

1316 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Stacy shut the door behind her on her way into the office. "You don't find it a little odd that we're sleeping together but we can't drive into work together?" She threw herself down into the couch across from his desk.

"I don't. There are cameras outside the White House gate. Sure, some of them belong to the National Enquirer, but others belong to freelancers who have worked for among others, the Boston Globe, the New York Times, USA Today and the Washington Post. We're about to embark upon an illustrious and historical Hundred Days, after which I will gladly incur the wrath of Congress by committing whatever act of sexual congress you think necessary to tell the world we're together." He retorted sarcastically.

"Don't be glib; I may just hold you to that." She smiled. "What's stuck in your craw?"

"Today alone, the President has to nominate a new chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, await the results of Congressional voting on the new Senate Democratic leadership, greet them once they've been elected and then he has to start rolling out the agenda for this legislative session." Gunny braced himself with his hands on his desk.

"So, you're going to be walking around like a sour puss all day until the hard stuff is over?" Stacy jested lightly. "You're the Chief of Staff to the President of the United States; the hard stuff is going to keep coming for a few years yet."

"At this point, I would settle for getting through another nomination fight and not having to deal with the congressional Democratic caucus for a solid month." Gunny tossed his jacket off and hung it off the back of his chair. "In a few minutes, I've got to walk into the Oval Office and present a list to the President of possible nominees to become the next Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Half the list, he isn't going to like and half the list is less than politically tenable."

"So, what are you going to do?" She inquired.

"Exactly what the President orders me to." Gunny came out from behind the desk. "Now, you need to get the press ready. And I've got to go brief him." The Chief of Staff headed into the Oval Office.

"Morning, Gunny." The President was sipping his coffee.

"Sir, we've got to get right into the list of nominees for the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs." Gunny took a seat. "At the top of the list are nominees that you may find less than to your exact liking but who are eminently qualified." Gunny decided to start with the Marine to ease the President into it. "First is Lieutenant General Darren Gillies, USMC. He was the COMCARIB Commander and has alternate command experience as the Brussels XO. Next is Army General Riley McArdle of the 101st Airborne. Then we have Air Force General Quincy Campbell who was the CENTCOM XO and had been the commanding General for Whiteman Air Force Base. Last are two names I know you'll like but are going to be politically risky considering the position of the Vice President. We could always nominate either Admiral Rabb or Admiral Baxter. Both are the most qualified candidates."

"I want Harm for the job. We'll give them Gillies to fill the Vice Chairman spot. I know, I know, the Senate Republicans are going to give us a rough ride over Harm's nomination but the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs is my closest military advisor and I need it to be someone I can trust. Call Harmon Rabb, get him into my office. Call General Gillies, get him in here too. The Pentagon needs new young leadership, God knows the country has been receptive to it over the last few years. Besides, Harm's an American hero again, or haven't you seen the news about China?"

"Good point, sir. But that may not last through a confirmation hearing. They're bound to drag up certain things about Admiral Rabb which will appear, at the least odd and at the most suspect." Gunny leaned forward in the chair.

"Such as?" The President replied, his attention seemingly enraptured by the statement.

"Well, he was wanted for espionage in Russia after stealing a MiG to find his father. He nearly resigned his commission to run off to Chechnya to rescue his brother. He was charged with murder in the case of a Russian informant who was murdered down by the docks back in 1998. He has a habit for being captured and tortured by other nations, case in point one incident in China back in 1996 and than back when he and the First Lady were on that diplomatic envoy to Indonesia and they were abducted by Al Qaeda. He's got a ramp-strike on his record and an downed aircraft from 2001 when he went down in the Atlantic trying to make it back in time for then Colonel MacKenzie's wedding. The committee might also find it suspect that he is now married to someone with whom he used to share a command. As we know, it is often insinuation more than fact that derails a nomination." Gunny took a deep breath.

"Gunny, in the time you've known Admiral Rabb, I assume he's done any number of heroic things which would certainly act as antidotes to his numerous eccentricities over the years?" The President rubbed his right palm with his thumb.

"Well, yes sir. It's just that the press never seems to focus on the good things, no matter how good. Bad stuff sells more newspapers." Gunny watched the President look contemplative as he sat on the edge of his desk.

"Harm's the new Chairman, Gillies is the new Vice Chair. Get them in my office before I meet with the new Democratic leadership in the Senate." The President affirmed. "We've got to make sure that we run the legislative session as long as we can tonight. If we get Almeida, he'll be up for that."

"What are you saying, sir?" Gunny inquired, somewhat confused by the President's trepidation.

"Make sure we get Almeida, Gunny." The President directed.

1510 ZULU

WASHINGTON NAVY YARD

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Harmon Rabb walked through the halls of the Washington Navy Yard, his last day in Washington before he had to head back out to Hawaii for two weeks before coming back for official Senate confirmation of his position in the Pacific. He was on his way to deal with the Chief of Naval Operations and his old friend Ethan Baxter. A part of him had to give credit to Jennifer Coates – now Baxter – for the remarkable turnaround in his old friend's demeanour. Gone were his playboy days and in a sudden one-eighty he had become a family man and the Navy's chief workhorse.

He marvelled at how that was usually the case. Hell, it was almost always the case. He reflected on how Mac was able to work the same kind of magic with him over the last eleven years. Mac and Sasha had given him enough evidence to state that without reservation, women were remarkable creatures and it was likely due to their presence that mankind had any intelligence at all.

Keeter could hold down the shop in Hawaii for a while, he'd done it for the better part of the last decade of his career. Harm suspected that in many ways, Hawaii had become for Keeter what JAG had been for him for years, a sort of home; it was rare that any assignment became so close to one's heart and Harm knew that over the last years he had been the benefactor of some great magnanimous fortune from his superiors. Between Secretary Chegwidden and the President, Harm had been lucky enough to set down family roots in Virginia and his children had friends and his wife had a great job.

But now, he had to make a bit of a sacrifice. He had to head out to Hawaii for a little while and circumstances prevented him from taking his family with him. He'd be back for all major holidays and knowing his bosses, they'd make up excuses to get him home so he could spend time with Mac and the kids. He pushed open the door to Bax's office only to find Gunny standing there talking with the CNO already.

"Are you just an omnipresent force in Washington?" Harm asked as he greeted Gunny with a handshake.

"All places at all times, Admiral." Gunny answered with a smile.

"Yeah, but you've got a big day up on the Hill if CNN is anything to go by. Why are you dragging the depths of the Washington Navy Yard?" Harm questioned.

"It's part of my big day up on the Hill. The President is nominating a new Joint Chiefs Chairman and Vice Chairman. We need someone who is both qualified and willing to be nominated. I gave the President a list of five nominees; he gave quick and careful consideration and made a decision. The nominee will be introduced at a press conference this afternoon. Now, we're coming off a Marine Corps Chairman who has resigned amidst what the press is calling 'curious circumstances'; however, the President being a Marine is opposed to slighting his old service, so he's chosen Darren Gillies as the new Vice Chairman." Gunny began to pace the floor.

"That's a pretty good choice; he's been a commanding General for Camp LeJeune, the interim COMCARIB commander and the XO in Brussels. He's got good combat experience, one of the few to make it out of the barracks in Lebanon. Who's the President going to nominate as Chairman?" Bax shuffled through the papers on this desk. "I swear to God, if it's Bart Banner…" Bax left the threat open ended as it referred to the Air Force Chief of Staff.

"No, it's not Bart Banner. It's Harm." Gunny announced with a smile. "The President is going to need to see you in his office for a few minutes before the press conference today. You're pencilled in for fifteen minutes before the press conference at 1500, today."

"So, I'll be seeing the President at three and I'll be introduced to the media ten minutes later?" Harm asked, pleased with himself a little bit.

"That's how the game works." Gunny gave a quick, affirming and single nod. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a meeting with Senator John Heiden at the Capital Grille."

1630 ZULU

CAPITAL GRILLE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Gunny was running a few minutes late but met up with Senator Heiden only a few minutes after he'd been seated. "Senator, sorry for running a little late." Gunny smiled and took a seat.

"Trying to keep your finger on the pulse of the caucus?" John Heiden was a former University of Wisconsin running back and the head of the Wisconsin bar. He was a tall man with a wide frame and thus not easily intimidated.

"I don't need to do that, it's political suicide for the White House to get involved in congressional leadership races, you know that." Gunny opened the menu.

"Yes, I do. I also know that the White House need not be worried. Almeida has Gonzalez by nine votes; he's the new Senate Majority Leader. But I suspect, the White House already knew that. No, we're here to talk about Martin Ordonez. The Speaker and Senator Lawson seem to be jockeying to have him named Senate Majority Whip. I don't object to that, I certain prefer my committee placements to Senate leadership but I am the head of the DSCC for the 2016 campaign and I could see a little mutual back-scratching being necessary here." Heiden sipped on his water.

"What did you have in mind?" Gunny motioned for some scotch from the waiter.

"Well, as we both know, Billy Keane is retiring from his Pennsylvania Senate seat in 2016. Pennsylvania isn't a lock for either Party and I need a candidate who can give us a better than even chance at retaining the seat. Obviously, I would like to make a good impression with the national Party in case I ever do want a leadership position. Rumours on Capitol Hill are that the First Lady is interested in running for the seat. If you can deliver the First Lady, I can make sure Ordonez makes a close showing for Senate Majority Whip." Heiden motioned for the waiter to come over. The waiter set the scotch down in front of Gunny. "I'll have the pork tenderloin."

"Give me the six ounce filet." Gunny handed over the menu and the waiter left. "So, how close a vote are we talking here?"

"Three votes either way." Heiden answered. "You want to confirm the rumours? Is the First Lady interested?"

"You don't think it's a little odd that we're talking about an election that is forty-five months away?" Gunny questioned suspiciously. "Off the record, she's interested in running and she has the President's full support."

"And _on_ the record?" Heiden pressed.

"On the record, I'll talk to Harriet Roberts at the First Lady's office, she'll have the First Lady call you and tell you yourself for anything _on_ the record." Gunny took a quick drink of his scotch.

"Kind of seems like the honour system here. I could deliver on Ordonez and the White House could stiff us on 2016." Heiden retorted.

"It goes the same for us. The First Lady could agree and you might not deliver on Ordonez, in which case, I'm left twisting in the wind." Gunny challenged right back.

"I suppose that's true. So, it's in our mutual interest to help one another, after all, it's for the good of the Democratic Party." Jack Heiden finished off his glass of water. "Anything else before we get to the small talk about college basketball?"

"You're on the Armed Services committee correct, Senator?" Gunny leaned into the table.

"I am." Heiden nodded.

"President's going to nominate a new Chairman of the Joints Chiefs along with a new Vice Chairman this afternoon. If I were to pass on a hypothetical name, do you think you could give me a prospective breakdown of how the committee would react?" Gunny intertwined his fingers.

"I think I could do that." Jack Heiden nodded.

"First, we're considering Darren Gillies for the Vice Chairman." Gunny tapped his fork on the tablecloth.

"A good, solid selection. But it's the Vice Chairman, no one really puts up a fight about the number two guy unless you're nominating a Vice President." Heiden answered. "Gillies is a safe pick, which means you're reaching for it with the chairmanship, which means it's Baxter or Rabb."

"Who's the tougher fight?" Gunny asked.

"Right now, probably Baxter. He's qualified, but there's some rumblings about the regulatory lines that got muddled when he was courting his wife." Heiden leaned back in his chair. "A sex scandal, even one with a Disney ending, can be a death knell for so high a position. Right now Rabb's the hero, we can confirm him quick with the media providing a bit of a Teflon wall. The Republicans can throw his eccentricities at him and it won't stick."

"Well, what if we were to nominate Admiral Rabb?" Gunny hypothesized.

"The President's loyalists in the Senate, which at the moment is most if not all of the Democratic Party, will give him a vigorous defence and will fight for him against any Republican attacks. However, he's an American hero and a registered Republican, they may have some political plans for him so, they may give him a bit of a pass with minimal prodding." Heiden theorized. "Odenkirk is the ranking Republican, I can have some words with him."

"The White House would appreciate that." Gunny answered as the meals for the two men came to the table. "So, think Georgetown goes to the Final Four this year?"

1913 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The President just got out of the last rehearsal for the afternoon press conference. He had to meet with the new Democratic Senate leadership. Much to his pleasant surprise, he found out that the new Senate Majority Leader was Joey Almeida and that Martin Ordonez was the new Senate Majority Whip. After having spoken with Gunny, he was less than pleased with the condition that Senator Heiden had placed on swinging some votes to Ordonez. But Gunny had talked to Harriet who had passed it on to the First Lady who immediately conferred with Senator Heiden. He had a candidate for the Pennsylvania seat in two years but he was to keep it under his hat until after the midterms.

The President was pleased to meet his new Democratic leadership companions. "Joey, Martin, nice to see you both." The President shook their hands.

"Good to see you too, Mr. President." Joey Almeida was grinning broadly as he greeted the President. "We've spoken to Charlie Scott, sir. The platform from the campaign seems in tact and while we're looking down the barrel at 209 pieces of legislation in one hundred days, I think I'm up to the task."

"I think I am as well, sir." Senator Ordonez gave a brief nod from behind his thin spectacles.

"Good, now on to important matters. Every Friday, if there isn't a vote, the Speaker, the Vice President, Gunny, me and whoever the Senate Majority Leader is have a regular poker game. Normally, it's just a cigars, scotch and beer kind of evening." The President grinned.

"Sounds like my kind of time, Mr. President." Joey Almeida laughed.

"And of course, if Joey can't make it, feel free to step into his shoes, Martin." The President took a seat behind the resolute desk. "We've got sixty-two Dems in the senate. If we can't put up some big legislative victories off the bat, everyone's going to think we're limp-wristed and complacent. Sam's going to be a bull in a china shop to get the bills through the House. After that, it's up to you guys."

"We'll do everything we can, sir." Martin stepped in. "We're going to need to confer with the Speaker and Charlie Scott to make sure all the bills are workable compromises."

"I think they will be, I know Charlie's mediation skills. We've got the college package and the child healthcare program right off the bat, we need successes with those two." The President directed.

"We'll do what we can." Joey Almeida didn't want the President to think the Senate was just there to jump to his will. At that moment, the door opened and a tall thin man walked in. He had lighter brown hair and high cheek bones.

"You must be Brendan McLaren." The President reached out his hand.

"I am, sir." The man nodded. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. President."

"And you, I was a great admirer and friend of your father's. I sure hope that his kind of integrity is hereditary." The President smiled wisely.

"I'll do my best, sir." Brendan McLaren nodded.

"Oh, where are my manners? This is Majority Leader Almeida and Majority Whip Ordonez." The President indicated the two Senators on his left. "And this is my Chief of Staff, Victor Galindez."

"They just call me Gunny." Gunny shook the new Senator's hand.

"They just call me Brendan." Senator McLaren smiled.

"Have you been directed to the steering committee yet, Senator?" Senator Almeida jumped in.

"Yes sir, I've got a meeting with you, the Whip, the Secretary and Policy committee chair tomorrow morning and 9:30, sir." Senator McLaren answered.

"Good. Do you have any preference for committees, Senator?" Senator Ordonez took a seat and crossed his legs at the ankle.

"Well, sir, I was a small businessman back home in Hannibal. I suppose I could be of some use on the Small Business, Commerce and Budget committees, sir." The Senator answered.

"Well, sounds like a good time for a photo op." Gunny intervened. The new Senator stood between the President and the Majority Leader and the official photographer took a snapshot. "I'll see you in the backrooms, Senator." Gunny chimed.

"See you there, Gunny." The Senators left the room with Gunny and Harm was escorted in with Lieutenant General Gillies. The two officers snapped to attention.

"It's good to see the two of you, at ease." The President motioned to the chairs in front of the resolute desk. "Please have a seat." The two officers stood at ease. "I have to nominate a new Chairman and Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. I needed eminently qualified candidates and I was lucky to come across the two of you. Lieutenant General Gillies, you're record sheet reads like a _Marine Corps Greatest Hits_ album. I'm not sure if you remember but you were my superior officer in Panama."

"I remember a second lieutenant who was a hell of a shot, sir." Lieutenant General Gillies smiled very quickly before returning to his stoicism. "Of course, I was just a Captain at the time, sir."

"And a damn fine one, apparently you've progressed even more remarkably as an officer since then and because of that, I'm nominating you to be the Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs." The President studied the Marine's expression.

"Thank you, sir. I'll do my best to live up to the task to which I have been assigned." General Gillies answered.

"You might at least smile, General." The President joked. "As for you, Harm. You've proven yourself time and again. First as a fleet Judge Advocate, then as a temporary DCNO, then as the JAG, then as the DCNO. You were more than excellent in Turkey and again in China. For those reasons, I'm nominating you to be the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff."

"Thank you, sir." Harm smiled from ear to ear. "Permission to inform the Justice, sir."

"Feel free, Harm but we've got to get you out in front of the press in a few moments." The President gave an affirming nod.

In his office, Gunny found Senator Gonzalez waiting for him. The Senator appeared to be brooding, staring down at tented fingers. "Nice to see you, Senator." Gunny greeted the legislator.

"I'm not so sure." Gonzalez answered.

"Are you implying something, Senator?" Gunny took a seat.

"Just that it seems odd that the Speaker of the House would get involved with a Senate leadership race. A Speaker, who everyone knows, is close to this White House and you and the President in particular. So, when he campaigned so actively for Senators Almeida and Ordonez to fill the spots, I start to wonder about motivations." Gonzalez met Gunny's glare.

"You can campaign for the White House on your own time, in a few years, Senator. But right here, right now, we need a first year where we have an agenda that goes unobstructed by someone's personal political agenda. Understood, Manny?" Gunny's iron jaw clenched.

"Where does the White House get off thinking it can dictate terms to a Senator, much less a committee chairman?!" Gonzalez roared.

"The President has a 62 percent approval rating and 70 percent of the country sees him as a strong leader. You think you can get in a fight with him _and _me and win right now? You're out of your mind. Right now, this White House's only concern is with child healthcare, an affordable college package and any other of a hundred items more important than your ego." Gunny challenged right back.

Senator Gonzalez returned to his past calm. "You of all people are standing between the first Hispanic to have a chance at a serious White House run and more fundraising?"

"You know what, Senator? I'd rather have a good man in the White House than a Hispanic, and this, what you're doing right now. Let's just say you've got a long way to go before you're the kind of man I'd vote for." Gunny replied in a harsh tone. "The door is to your left, don't let it hit you on the way out."

Gonzalez stormed out of the room and Gunny flicked on CNN just in time to see the President introduce Admiral Rabb at a press conference. "Gonzalez!" Gunny shouted and the Senator poked his head back in the door. "See those two right there?" He pointed at the TV. "_Those_ are good men."


	67. The Beauty of Their Dreams

_"The future belongs to those who believe in __**the beauty of their dreams**__." – Eleanor Roosevelt_

The common wisdom of any hockey rink is that it's freezing cold. Only the ones designed for professional games aren't. Sasha often wore her thickest coat to the games. All the other schools had eighth graders and seventh graders as their best players but St. Greg's three best players were fifth graders. Hell, the best player in all Maryland was a fifth grader. She watched St. Greg's line up against St. Dom's for the national anthem. The St. Greg's team still wore the dark blue "CAPITALS' jerseys from the previous year's national championship. Tim had the black 'A' over his chest indicating his honour as an alternate captain. Brad proudly wore the 'C' that designated the Team Captain. It gave him a unique status at school, to eighth graders; he was the only cool fifth grader.

After the last strains of the Star Spangled Banner died down, the two times lined up for the face off. Brad stood next to the St. Dom's winger and taunted him with a few insults, angering the other player enough to chop at Brad's stick with his own. Tim chuckled and leaned into the face-off circle. He knew Brad loved playing St. Dom's. In the game they played at St. Dom's earlier in the week – as part of a home and home – Brad had put up nine points including four goals in a 12-4 thumping of their rival. Now, he wanted a repeat performance. Mr. Gershwin, the head of the math department projected Brad for 45 points in twenty games just after the New Year, going into the last game of the season tonight, he was already at 48.

Tim lost the face off and St. Dom's went on the attack. Instinctively, Tim and Brad skated back toward their own blue-line to help with the defence. The big St. Dom's winger skated down into the left corner of the St. Greg's end. Jack went after him. He checked the guy but the puck squirted across behind the net to the other St. Dom's winger. Brad took two strides and laid his shoulder into the winger's chin, sending him to the ice. The puck squirted out in front of the St. Greg's net; luckily Tim got there first and fired the puck out of the zone, but slowly. In a flash, Brad was in behind the St. Dom's defence and had picked the puck up at the centre ice dot. It was the league's top scorer against the St. Dom's goaltender. With a few quick dekes and a few route changes, Brad had the goalie out of position. He fired a shot over the goaltender's shoulder, under the crossbar and lit up the goal light. Brad freed one hand from his stick, lifted one leg and grabbed his jersey just above the logo to feign thumping his chest. Brad let out a celebratory shout.

"St. Gregory's goal, his twenty-fourth of the season scored by number seventy-nine, Bradley Ross!" The announced told the arena and the St. Greg's fans cheered. "Assist to number fifteen, Tim Ross. Time of the goal, 1:24." The line skated back to the bench and both Ross boys looked up into the stands. Tim looked up, pleased to see Sasha Rabb attending yet another game. Brad looked up to see a scout from Shattuck. Brad sat on the bench, fondling his mouth-guard with his tongue until he just used his fingers to pull it out.

"Scouts are back." Brad indicated to the stands.

"Shattuck this time?" Tim looked up.

"Yeah, you can always tell when it's a Shattuck scout." Brad laughed. "They all come to see the all-star." He thumped his chest.

"Still a walking ego." Tim shook his head.

"Twenty-four goals, twenty-five assists, twenty games, Timmy. I'm outscoring guys three years older than me, guys that are going to play high school puck next year." Brad took a drink of water. "I'm the youngest Captain and back to back scoring champion in league history, I think that's worthy of a little respect."

The game ended almost an hour later. The score was 11-2 for St. Greg's; they were headed to their second state championship game. Brad had put up seven points, including only two goals, giving him fifty five points in twenty regular season games. After leaving the dressing room after the game, when Tim usually spent some time speaking with Sasha, Brad's Secret Service detail cleared the scout from Shattuck to speak with him. "That was a heck of a performance, Brad." The guy started. "Congratulations on making it to the state championship again."

"Thanks." Brad nodded. "What's up?"

"How would you like to come play at Shattuck next year?" The scout asked.

"You've got to talk to my dad, I'd suggest making an appointment, his days fill up fast." Brad smirked at the scout, shook his handed and headed to the car.

1637 ZULU

THE WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

"Okay, sir. In the next few hours, you've got a meeting with the Vice President, Admiral Rabb and General Gillies about the confirmation hearings. Than you've got five minutes with the First Lady and lunch with a scout from Shattuck-St. Mary's, it's about your son and or sons." Gunny opened the door to the Oval for the President.

"I have a lunch meeting with a private school recruiter?" The President had his curiosity spiked.

"Yes, sir. Shattuck-St. Mary's has the best middle school and high school hockey program in the country. In the last few years, they've given the NHL players like Sidney Crosby, Zach Parise and Jonathan Toews. If they're recruiting your son, they must think he has potential." Gunny took a seat opposite the President.

"How's the legislative agenda coming on Capitol Hill?" The President took a seat behind his desk.

"Like an unstoppable train, sir. We're expected to have a massive bill signing ceremony on Friday." Gunny grinned. "Senators Almeida and Ordonez have the Senate running like clockwork. It's an impressive feat that they've already passed 100 pieces of legislation in thirty-three days. They can take their foot off the pedal a little now, but by the time tax day rolls around they should have everything passed."

"Sir, the Vice President is here with Admiral Rabb and Lieutenant General Gillies." The Presidential Executive Secretary chimed in through the intercom.

"Send them in, Betty." The President answered. The door to the Oval opened and the President was greeted by Sturgis and the nominees to fill the nation's top military posts. "Good morning, gentlemen." Harm and General Gillies were at attention and Sturgis just took a seat on the couch. "At ease and take a seat."

"Sturgis, since you've been through a confirmation battle at this level before, I think you should be the point man on this one. You've also got some connections to the Senate obviously; you're the best envoy on this one. Any objections?" The President looked to the man now a heartbeat away from the Presidency.

"No, sir." Sturgis shook his head. "Is there anyway we can skirt the character issues that will be brought up around Admiral Rabb's somewhat eccentric behaviour in his early thirties, like pretty much his whole trip to Russia?"

"Just tell them what you honestly think. You've known the man for thirty years. If necessary, tell them what I think. I've known the man for a decade and know no man of greater character than him. If you have to, play the Patriot angle. Harm had discovered certain things about Vietnam POWs and was, like a good JAG officer, investigating all possibilities pertinent to an objective investigation of fact." The President cracked his knuckles. "Normally the Patriot angle works; I haven't met a Senator yet that wasn't willing to take up the Patriot angle, especially if a camera is present."

"Sir, don't you think this would be a little tricky, considering my wife if chairman of the committee holding the hearings?" Sturgis questioned, leaning forward on his elbows.

"Damn, I knew this was too good to be true. Alright, gather up Charlie Scott from the bullpen, down the hall on the other side of the Roosevelt room. Have him sit in, he'll run the confirmation when it actually gets to the hearing room." The President answered. "Good luck and God willing this won't be a long process."

"Thank you, sir." Harm and General Gillies nodded.

"Dismissed." The President nodded. Gunny escorted the group out of the Oval Office. The President didn't even have time to count to five and already his wife was in his office. "Good morning, sweetheart. How was the college fact-finding mission?"

"Helene loves Notre Dame and _loves_ Boston College. Sorry, no such luck when it comes to Georgetown." The First Lady shook her head.

"The Secret Service must have been thrilled with that. Which one did they say would be the easiest to set up a protection detail for?" The President inquired.

"Notre Dame of course, South Bend is a good deal smaller than the city of Boston. But your daughter has her heart set on going to Boston College." Nicole took her husband's hand.

"How's the wedding planning coming along?" The President asked. "I imagine Anna's driving you completely insane."

"As difficult as Ross men are, Ross women are more so." Nicole laughed vibrantly. "I'm starting to think that your father might have been a Saint for putting up with so many of them for so long."

"Well, I'll get the Pope started on canonization." Nate laughed too. "Any complications?"

"Well, they're having a bit of a religious crisis of conscience. They both want to convert so the other doesn't have to." Nicole smiled. "See, you made life easy on me. You went behind my back and converted on your own."

"My advice, tell Sergei to do the same." The President lightly pulled her toward him and placed his hands on her hips. "Now, I have some information which you may find useful. In about ten minutes, I have a lunch meeting with a scout from Shattuck-St. Mary's. It would appear our son, Bradley, has been rousing the attention of scouts for middle school hockey."

"I don't like that." Nicole shook her head. "Shattuck is in Minnesota, your son is only just about to turn twelve. I don't like him being that far from home."

"I know, I know." The President smiled as he kissed her cheek. "But our son loves hockey, it's all he does, all he talks about. If they think he's good, he's going to want to play in the place that gives him the best chance to play in the NHL someday."

"I _don't_ want my son going to school thousands of miles from home just so he can play hockey." Nicole protested. "There's more?"

"They may be interested in Jack or Tim as well." The President winced.

"If I won't let one of my sons go to Minnesota, what makes you think I'll let more than one?" Nicole was quickly crossing into pouting.

"I just think we should do the mature thing here. We should let the scout make his case. We should talk with Brad, I don't think he'll want to leave his friends and then politely, we'll tell the scout that he would have better luck when Brad's about to enter high school." Nate interlaced his fingers behind her back.

"First, where do you get off insinuating that what I said was immature…?" The First Lady laid into a rant.

"I…I…I." The President stuttered.

"Second, what if Bradley would rather play hockey than hang around here with his friends?" She pressed, her voice getting louder by the second.

"I…I…I." Nate stuttered again.

"Last, since when are you the only one making decisions about _our_ kids? Why is it that the scout is only talking to you, huh?" She pushed herself off his chest and out of his embrace.

"I…I…I" The President tried again but couldn't get anything out. The First Lady stormed out of the office and slammed the door behind her. "Am in so much trouble." The President shook his head and punched the intercom button on his desk. "Betty, call up the nearest florist. I need a dozen orange roses, a dozen carnations, a dozen Washington lilies, one of those is her favourite flower, I just can't remember which. And call Kinkead's; tell them that the President of the United States requests a reservation."

"Will do, sir." Betty answered. "And Mr. President."

"Yes, Betty." The President replied.

"You may want to do something personal for her, sir. Flowers and the flexing of Presidential muscle may not do it this time." The Secretary advised.

"Thank you, Betty." The President punched the intercom button. He got a few seconds of quiet before the scout from Shattuck was introduced.

"It's an honour to meet you, Mr. President." The scout was just under six feet tall and a rather stocky looking man. He had flecks of grey sporadically decorating an otherwise jet black head of hair; his face was adorned with a thick pair of glasses and a bushy moustache. "You wouldn't mind a picture, would you?" The President shook his head and motioned for Betty to come into the office. The scout handed his cell phone to Betty who took the picture. "Thank you."

"What can I do for you, Mr. Adams?" Nate took a seat on one of the couches.

"I didn't tell you my name." The scout seemed confused.

"Mr. Adams, do you figure that the Secret Service lets anyone through that door without doing a complete background check?" The President point through a door to the outer office. "I can give you your personal history going back at least forty years."

"Of course, sir." Adams seemed a little unnerved.

"Mr. Adams, I haven't had lunch yet. You up for a sword fish sandwich and a glass of Jack?" The President gave the man a pat on the shoulder.

"Sounds excellent, sir." The scout nodded. The President sent word down to the kitchen. The President sat back down opposite the scout.

"So, what can I help you with, Mr. Adams?" The President leaned back on the couch.

"I'll cut right to the quick, sir. I've been a scout at Shattuck for eleven years, in that time, I have never seen an American hockey player going into middle school with the kind of talent that your son Brad has." The scout leaned forward. "He's got a skill with the puck that kids three years older than him don't have, which is obvious because he plays with kids three years older than him."

"Well, thank you, but you still haven't really told me why you're here." The President pointed out.

"Sir, I have been authorized on behalf of Shattuck to extend a full scholarship to your son to play hockey with us and attend the school." Adams finally came out with it.

"This is about my son's ability to play, right? I don't want him being exploited because of who his parents are. I realize he's very talented but I have to protect his best interest." The President kept his jaw firm as he engaged in the ugly part of the conversation.

"I understand that, sir." Adams was interrupted by the door opening and lunch being hurried into the room. "They're fast."

"Best in the world." The President answered.

"In any case, your son put up fifty-five points in twenty games and has led his league in each of the last two years. He's going to lead the school team to its second state championship game tomorrow night. Granted hockey isn't as competitive in the Atlantic as it is in the Midwest but these numbers are still impressive, even if it is Maryland. He's one of the best pure skaters I've ever seen." Adams dug into his sandwich. "Wow, this is fantastic."

"I know." The President wiped his mouth and reached for the glass of Jack. "So, you think Bradley is talented?"

"Oh yes, sir. I think he could go right on to the first line if he played for us next year. There is the matter of his grades." Adams approached with caution. "He would need to work a little harder to turn that C+ average into a B- but if he can do that, I see no problems."

"My wife and I will speak with him tonight." The President nodded and realized that they both had half their lunch left. "So, think the Capitals got a chance at making the playoffs this year?"

2339 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

GREAT FALLS, VIRGINIA

Harm lumbered through the door and dropped his briefcase. "Mac?" Harm called out to what was a seemingly empty house. "Mac?" Harm wandered up the stairs toward their bedroom where he heard the shower running. Now, after a hard day of hearing politicians yammer on about endless unimportant political machinations, a hot shower with his sexy wife seemed like just the kind of thing to relax his muscles. However, being almost fifty, he was starting to feel the creak and pinch of old bones that would rather just sit on the bed than stand a second longer. Sit on the bed and wait for the aforementioned sexy wife to come out of the bathroom in a towel.

He tossed his cover and jacket off and sat there waiting. Sure enough, less then two minutes later, Mac came walking out of the bathroom in a towel; slightly startled to see her husband sitting there waiting. "Damn it, Harm! I didn't hear you come in."

"My house too, Mac." He smiled at her. "You know, I have a whole new appreciation for what you went through in front of the Senate a couple years ago."

"You do, huh?" Mac sauntered over. "Got worn out during your committee prep today?"

"I never knew Sturgis could be that aggressive in questioning and I've faced the man in court." Harm shook his head. "The Senate can't be that bad, can it?"

"Worse." Mac answered. "They're never afraid to go for the jugular and whore for the C-SPAN cameras and that goes for both sides of the aisle." He reached out, placed both his hands on her hips and pulled her in.

"See, none of that matters now though because I've got this gorgeous Marine standing in front of me wearing nothing more than a towel and I have a number of lustful thoughts running through my head." He smiled at her again.

"Is that right?" Mac taunted. "So, why didn't you come and join me in the shower than, Admiral?"

"Gave in to my fatigue, ma'am." Harm tried to sound as at attention as possible while sitting on a bed embracing a woman in a towel.

"I see, and what assurances do I have that this won't happen when the big moment _comes_, so to speak." She teased him mercilessly.

"Oh, just one look at you in a towel could sustain the whole fleet for an entire war cruise." Harm humoured and pulled her tighter.

"That's very flattering." She was grinning herself by this time. "But what are we going to do about you, Admiral; you're still in Class A uniform."

"I supposed I could permit you to dress me down, ma'am. After all, the highest ranking military officer in the country only recognizes two authorities; the President and my wife." Mac reached over and put his cover on her head.

"How does it look, sailor?" She pushed him backward on the bed.

"Oh, very sexy, ma'am." He nodded reassuringly.

"Good." She raised her eyebrows suggestively and pounced on him. Their lips met in a static spark that had been rare to find since they'd become parents. Harm started to slowly peel Mac's towel off as her nimble fingers began to seemingly will the buttons of his shirt apart. Just as she was about to deal with the button of his pants, the faintest voice could be heard from down the hall.

"Matt?" Harm asked.

"Sounds like it. When I came home, Trish said he'd been running around almost all day and she'd had a hard time keeping an eye on him. Pretty impressive considering his age. But he was tired about forty-five minutes ago, so I put him down for a nap and took the monitor into the bathroom with me for a shower." Mac explained. "A short nap apparently."

"I'll go tend to him." Harm smiled and got up from the bed.

"Why not me?" Mac inquired.

"Well, honey, as much as I like seeing you naked, you're Matt's mother and that just might traumatize him." Harm laughed. "But by all means, walk around our room naked as much as you want."

"Yeah right, flyboy." Mac laughed and tossed a pillow at him. In renovating the house, Harm had – along with help from Sturgis, Keeter and Bax – built a nursery that was attached to the master bedroom. So the kids were never far from mom and dad if they had a nightmare or something. It seemed as if little Matthew Rabb was going to be the last occupant of that room, a thought that from time to time made Harm's eyes well up.

"Hey, buddy." Harm smiled when he greeted his son.

"Hi, dad." Matt smiled right back.

"What happened?" Harm asked as he crouched down to his son's height.

"Scary dream." Matt's sunken face explained the rest and Harm pulled his son into a hug.

0006 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The President had decided to wear his best suit, not that it was an enjoyable thing to wear. He wore a suit all day, wearing one in order to wind down and apologize to his wife for being…well, a man and making a typical stupid male mistake that he had yet to identify. The flowers had been sent to the First Lady by mid-afternoon and it was partly in the wake of receiving them that the President had been able to cajole her into going to dinner tonight. He'd almost needed a similar gesture when dealing with the head of his security detail that was less than thrilled with the idea of the President going to dinner.

But before he headed out, he had to speak with Brad about going to Shattuck next year to play hockey. Brad was parked in front of the TV watching a hockey game, as if he would be anywhere else. "Son, we need to talk." Nate took a seat on the couch.

"Now, dad? The Flyers and Capitals are playing." Brad sat up and leaned forward.

"Yes, we're going to talk now, young man." Nate used his best paternal tone. He grabbed the remote and turned the volume down. "Bradley, a scout from Shattuck-St. Mary's came to see me today. He's offering you a scholarship to play hockey there next year. He said, for your age, you're the best American player he's ever seen."

"Cool." Brad nodded his head appreciatively.

"Well, do you want to play hockey and go to school there next year?" Nate asked.

"Not a chance." Brad said enthusiastically. "My friends are all here. I can barely stand the kids at a Catholic parochial school, if I had to deal with a bunch of preppies, I'd probably kill one or two of them. St. Greg's will never get to state again if I leave and finally, I kind of like being the superstar."

"What do you mean, son? Mr. Adams said you'd be a first line player if you played for Shattuck next year." Nate sounded like he was trying to empathize with his son. In reality, he had no idea how Brad felt. Brad was an athlete gifted well beyond anything Nate had ever been when he was a kid.

"Yeah, but those are the best players in the country that are my age. They play in international tournaments with Canadians, Swedes and Russians. I might be a good player in that league but I'm outstanding here. What is it grandpa used to say? It's easier to look like an Eagle if you're surrounded by turkeys?" Brad and his dad laughed. "If I play here, I can make Tim and Jack look good too. If I go to Shattuck and play against them at nationals or something, I'll have to make them look bad and I couldn't stand that."

"Okay, son." Nate mussed his hair.

"Thanks, dad." Brad turned the volume back up and returned to the game. Nate walked over to the door way where he saw his wife standing in a stunning dress that hugged every curve and made his eyes fixate on her (and his mind focus on controlling his drool).

"You know, that touching little Andy Griffith moment you just had doesn't take you off the hook?" She pointed out. After a few seconds, she had to put her index finger under his chin and lift his head. "My eyes are up here."

"I'll get to them in a minute." Nate retorted in a dreamy tone that made Nicole laugh. "Well, my dear, shall we be off?" He extended his arm and she looped hers through it. They headed for the ellipse and got into the limo that took them down Pennsylvania Avenue to Kinkead's. The owner was waiting for them at the door and escorted them to a private dining area heavily guarded by the Secret Service.

"Mr. President, it's an honour to see you again, sir." He gushed. "It's been some time since you've been here."

"A few years, Claude." The President nodded.

"And Mrs. Ross, a sight to see as always." He flattered.

"Thank you, Claude." Nicole smiled at him.

"What are the specials tonight, Claude?" She asked.

"Well, madam, we have a grilled whole Italian Dourade with crispy zucchini parmesan, artisan olive oil and a cherry tomato confit." Claude answered.

"That sounds excellent." Nicole nodded.

"And for the monsieur?" He asked.

"I'll have the grilled lamb steak with the arugula salad." The President answered and he handed the menus back to the restaurant owner.

"The President will also have a glass of Ridgecrest Pinot Noir and I'll have a Solena Pinot Gris." The First Lady smiled. It would take a little longer to cook their meals as the Secret Service would be standing over the shoulder of the chef checking every ingredient for poisons and toxins.

"Can I start by saying I'm sorry." The President started sheepishly. "I know I can be bull-headed."

"Nathan, this is supposed to be a partnership. I know that it's in your nature to take charge but especially with the kids, you need to consult me rather than just trying to make all the decisions." She reached across the table and put her hand on his.

"I know." Nate relented. "But it's just, with work the last few years; I feel like I've missed four years of the kids' lives and I don't like that feeling. At least my dad had an excuse when he was on a deployment; my kids are in the same building. I think, maybe I was compensating for all that came before."

"You're a good man and the kids know that and the triplets know how important your job is. They're proud of you." She smiled at her husband and lifted his hand to kiss his knuckles. "If you want to involve yourself in what they like, it's not tough. Help Tim with his homework if you get the chance. Throw the ball around with Jack. Go watch one of Brad's hockey games, the state championship is at 7:30 tomorrow night at the Civic Center, go to that."

"I want to." He stated simply. "So, why the dress?"

"Well, I figured if you earned it, I could give you a reward." She flirted.

0114 ZULU, THE NEXT NIGHT

WASHINGTON CIVIC CENTER

WASHINGTON, D.C.

It was St. Greg's against Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow from Annapolis for the state championship. After three periods of hockey, overtime and thirteen shootout rounds, no player had been able to break the 4-4 tie. Brad Ross had been a standout in the game, putting up two goals and two assists and now, it fell to him again as he prepared for his third shot in the shootout. The eleven year-old looked up into the stands to see his father sitting there wearing the proudest smile he'd ever seen. The puck sat at centre ice. Brad started from his own blue-line, a ten foot jump start to build speed. He brought the puck up over the opponent's blue-line and in on their goal. He was shuffling rapidly from his forehand to his backhand as he moved in on the goal. Just as he looked as if he'd committed to his backhand, he moved the puck and his stick between his legs and flicked a wrist shot into the goal.

Half the arena broke into applause, the game was still tied. Then came time for the Annapolis team to take its shot at breaking the tie. Their player skated in on the St. Greg's goal and fired a wrist shot between the goalie's legs. Now, it was all on Tim's shoulders. The Assistant Captain of St. Greg's skated out to centre ice, he thought of the only method he knew. He pushed the puck forward, so that it was just a few feet inside the blue-line, gathered speed and with all his force and a mighty grunt, fired a slap shot on net. The puck whizzed toward the goal at a speed that any of the Ross boys would have thought impossible for an eleven year-old.

It wrung the crossbar and flew away from the net. St. Greg's lost. After the game, the boys were ready to go home but Sasha was waiting for Tim. When he came out of the dressing room, she gave him a big hug and kissed his cheek. "Get them next year." She encouraged before running to meet her mom.


	68. Is Priced of God

Nicole Ross walked through the East Wing of the White House having just returned from the caterer's with her sister-in-law. Between Anna's wedding plans and the boys' birthday party tomorrow, it was a wonder that she was going to get any sleep in the next twenty-four hours. She walked into the living room to see Tim, Jack, Sasha Rabb and Jimmy Roberts sitting around the table doing homework. "Where's your brother?" She looked around.

"Brad convinced the Secret Service to let him stay at the rink and do off-season training." Tim answered.

"Isn't the next hockey season like six months from now, like late October?" Nicole walked over to a set of papers she had scattered over the kitchen table.

"Yeah." Tim scribbled a few more quick notes in his book. "He blames himself for losing the state championship. I don't. I don't even blame myself; I think it's our goalie's fault we lost."

"Yeah, you're the only one on that score, Tim." Jack laughed. "Everyone else on the team wanted to razz you good about that one. Of course, not nearly as bad as they wanted to razz you about Sasha."

"What about me?" Sasha's head lifted rapidly from her math textbook.

"Well, it's just rare that puck-bunnies hang around outside the dressing room at this level of hockey. Much less, you know, hug and kiss one of the players in public." Jack was straining to hold back his laughter.

"What's a puck-bunny?" Sasha looked to Tim.

"It's a hockey groupie." Tim deadpanned, looking her right in the eyes. Sasha then reached across the table and smacked Jack across the shoulder. Something which made Nicole laugh pretty hard.

"Did the Secret Service tell your father when they'd be back?" Nicole decided to interrupt the little bull session.

"Some time around six." Tim answered, his head returning to his homework.

"I swear, this is Brad's version of homework." Nicole muttered as she headed into her office where Harriet Roberts was waiting for her. "Evening, Harriet."

"Evening, ma'am." Harriet gave a quick nod.

"Anything left on the dock today before I send you home, Harriet?" The First Lady asked with a polite smile.

"Yes, ma'am. You got this delivery from Harper Collins this morning pertaining to your biography on Mrs. Roosevelt." Harriet handed over the manila envelope. The First Lady tore the envelope open and read the letter inside. She smiled and looked up at Harriet. "The hardcover edition of this book will be released on June 21st of this year. Early Reviews have been very positive as you will have read on the back of the dust jacket." Nicole pulled the first copy of the book out of the envelope and looked it over. "I like it, what do you think, Harriet?"

"It's very nice, ma'am." Harriet grinned. Harriet looked over the book carefully, even reading the back of the dust jacket. "Mrs. Roosevelt was one heck of a woman, ma'am."

"Yes, she was Harriet." Nicole grinned. She opened the book and drew a pen from her desk. She quickly scribbled across the first page and closed the book; then she handed it to Harriet. "My thanks for your help over the last four plus years."

"Thank you, ma'am." Harriet was all of a sudden very giddy. She hugged the First Lady who was certainly not expecting it. Nicole laughed as well. "I mean, you're not giving me a going away present, are you, ma'am? You're not…"

"Firing you? Good Lord no, Harriet. You're the best assistant I've ever had! If I'd had a Chief of Staff like you when I was the First Lady of Pennsylvania, I would have gotten twice as much done as I did. You've helped me organize fundraisers to raise more than four million dollars for breast cancer; not to mention another two and a half million for Heart and Stroke disease. You've helped me get through two books, confirm two Supreme Court Justices, and forward the cause of women's issues with Congress." Nicole gave Harriet another hug.

"I know, ma'am but I just assumed with you considering running for the Senate in a few years and my not being a high placed political operative, we'd have to part eventually." Harriet reasoned.

"Harriet, if I get elected to the Senate, by that time you will have been Chief of Staff to the First Lady for eight years and through one Presidential and one Senate campaign. About the only person in this building with more political experience than that is Charlie Scott. And Charlie's a battler, an arm-twister, the kind of guy you need to go to the wall for you with other members of Congress. That's why my husband hired him and why I'll probably need him as a legislative assistant. You're a better manager than he is." Nicole assured Harriet. "Now, take your son home, kiss your husband and have a relaxing evening, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." Harriet hurried out of the office to pick up Jimmy from the living room and head for home.

1310 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

"Gunny, why are we missing the press secretary at the moment?" Kat walked into the Chief of Staff's office.

"Morning to you, too." Gunny didn't even lift his head to look at her. "Stacy's at home with the flu or food poisoning or some damn thing."

"Well, who's going to brief the press?" Kat crossed her arms.

"Well, I could but I've got a pretty full day. Besides, I don't want to and I have a staff to do that kind of thing. Morley and Charlie are combative and hostile with the press not that that is a good thing but simply because they're always out in full throated defence of the President. So, this leaves you, you've done it before, you're young and the press likes you." Gunny finally looked up and smiled. "Go warm up, kid. You're in the starting line-up today."

"Oh Lord." Kat rolled her eyes and headed back down the hall toward the communications bullpen. Gunny finished with the position paper and got out of his chair and headed into the Oval Office. "Morning, sir."

"Morning, Gunny." The President answered.

"Sir, the Rabb and Gillies committee hearings are taking place today and than you've got several meetings today on foreign policy with the Far East advisors, the Middle East advisors, the German, British and Canadian Ambassadors. Your wife will be coming by around noon for lunch. I imagine she'll want to talk about your sister's wedding and your sons' birthday party tonight. At some point, there will be about thirty kids running around the grounds but the Secret Service has been directed to confine them to the East Wing and the South Lawn." Gunny took a deep breath. "Anything else, sir?"

"Yeah, I need to speak with the Secretary of Defence at some point before five this evening, alright?" The President responded. "Oh, and take a breath alright. We're not going to fall behind schedule just because you're speaking at a regular person's pace."

"Yes, sir." Gunny affirmed.

"Alright, what's this I see about Kat doing the briefings this morning?" The President looked down at the updated schedule on his desk.

"Yeah, Stacy's at home with the flu or food poisoning or some damn thing." Gunny shook his head.

"Food poisoning? She'd be pretty violently ill, maybe _someone_ should go home and make sure she's okay." The President hinted pretty heavily.

"She's under directions to call _someone_ if she starts feeling any worse, sir." Gunny replied. "There's also a chance it may just be the flu, in which case, there's very little that _someone_ could do by being there today."

"Well, did _someone_ feel her head in order to see if she was running a temperature? Memory serves, women appreciate a show of concern like that." The President smiled. Gunny smacked his forehead.

"No, sir, _someone_ forgot to do that." Gunny shook his head. "Sir, this _someone_ business is getting old, are you sure it's necessary?"

"I don't make the political rules, Gunny. And in this case, I don't particularly enjoy them." The President assured his Chief of Staff. "Any other physical signs other than just being a little physically sick like a cough or something?"

"No, sir." Gunny acknowledged. "Well sir, if hypothetically, I were more involved in the situation than your direct knowledge were sure of, I would say there have been some out of character traits popping up recently."

"Like what, Gunny?" The two men moved toward the mural room.

"Well, there's been a little trouble maintaining balance, a few small headaches, she's been pretty tired lately, her back's been sore." Gunny saw a smile grow on the President's face. "What's amusing, sir?"

"Sorry, Gunny. It's just that a man only notices back soreness if a back rub no longer leads to sex." The President was laughing to himself, in reality, he was starting to gather the situation. "Continue."

"Well, she's been unusually moody." Gunny started and the President began to laugh heartily. "Seriously, sir, what's funny."

"I was just thinking, if Admiral Rabb were here he'd make a joke about not knowing whether it was possible for a woman to be _unusually_ moody." Nate composed himself, he sort of knew what was going on. "Any weird food combinations in the house lately? Hypothetically, of course."

"A lot of pickles and pineapples, sir." Gunny looked confused, the President looked amused. "Seriously, pickles and Oreos, it was the damnedest thing."

"Alright, Gunny, I have a solution. I want you to go tell my wife and Harriet everything you just told me." The President directed his Chief of Staff.

"Everything, sir? Even the pickles and pineapples?" Gunny asked.

"Everything, Gunny. And you can drop the _someone_ and hypotheticals around them, okay?" The President instructed. Gunny headed out of the mural room and the President prepared to meet with the German Ambassador.

1545 ZULU

RUSSELL SENATE BUILDING

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The crowd flooded into the chamber for the hearings considering the President's nominations for Chairman and Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Harmon Rabb and Darren Gillies walked down the centre aisle to the table that was stationed before the committee. Up on the dais, Harm could see Bobbi Latham-Turner holding court with the more junior Democratic Senators on the committee. Behind him were cameras for all the major news outlets and C-SPAN that was broadcasting live. He couldn't believe that thirty years in the Navy would all come down to this day and those Senators. If he didn't get it, what else could he do in the military? Nothing really. He supposed he could work for a defence contractor but he'd hate that work.

What if they did confirm him though? He'd have a few terms in the job, maybe but what after that? Well, he supposed that he could run for the Senate as Nate had suggested to him last year but that work was almost as distasteful as contractor work. Just from his work as Vice Chief of Naval Operations he knew a lot of the Senators that he would soon be questioned by and a lot of them were good people. But still, Senator Harmon Rabb? Nah.

When Bobbi took her seat, the room fell silent and awaited her initiation of the hearing. "This hearing of the Senate Armed Services committee will now commence." She banged her gavel and brought the committee into session. "The issue before the committee today is to advise and consent on the nominations made by the President of the United States to fill the vacancies of Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Will the nominees stand and be sworn in?"

Harm and General Gillies got to their feet. "Do you swear that the testimony you give before this committee will be the truth, whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do." The two men said.

"Be seated." They were directed and did so. "I want to thank the Admiral and the General for being here today as well as for their many years of service to their country. At the moment, I would like to read into the record several of the career facts of Admiral Rabb which have likely led to his presence in front of us today." Over the next ten minutes, Bobbi read into the record all of Harm's major exploits at JAG as well as the incident over the Gulf of Sidra and the time he saved Tuna while stationed with the Patrick Henry. Once she had concluded, she cleared her throat. "Because we have limited time before the floor votes this afternoon, I'm going to be keeping a pretty tight rein on by-play today." Bobbi concluded. "Senator Kwon, the first question is to you." Bobbi motioned to the Junior Democratic Senator from Hawaii.

"Thank you, Madam Chairwoman." Senator Kwon adjusted his glasses. "Admiral Rabb, your recent performance as the Commander of Pacific Forces during the Taiwan crisis was admirable, but what about that post makes you feel qualified to be the chief military advisor to the President?"

"Well, Senator, I've known the man for the last ten years and we met during a duty assignment that involved the two of us advising the National Security Council on matters pertaining to fighting terrorism. As such, the President and I are used to working together in an atmosphere that is conducive to coming up with solutions to the problems faced by modern military, intelligence and diplomatic crises." Harm answered. He looked up and saw Bobbi and a few other senior Democrats looking thoroughly impressed.

"The next question is to you, Senator Taggart." Bobbi eyed the Oklahoma Republican cautiously.

"Admiral Rabb, in 1999 you were charged with contemptuous words for some comments you made about President Clinton. Surprisingly, this appears to be only the last in a long line of questionable life decisions you made that ended with you being reprimanded by supervisors." Senator Taggart looked up from the file in front of him. "Admiral Rabb, why should this chamber vote to confirm someone whose file indicates serious problems with authority to be the next senior military advisor to the President?"

"Well, Senator, those were the youthful indiscretions of a young officer. I think we'd all admit that we're a lot smarter at fifty than we are at thirty-five." Harm's quip got a chorus of muffled chuckles from many people in the room. "I have my wife and children to thank for balancing me out."

"The next question is to you, Senator Trotter." Bobbi looked to her right and motioned for Trotter to ask his question.

1721 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Nicole Ross walked into the Oval Office and smiled when she saw her husband standing behind the resolute desk with his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up. "Yeah, I know we've got a G8 summit in Kingston, Ontario this summer but we need to talk about something more than what it seems every G8 summit has been about for three years." He was talking to the French President.

"Hi, honey." Nicole whispered and Nate smiled.

"I completely agree, Francois, Africa and climate change are important issues but the G8 can't get serious on Africa until all its members are willing to contribute proportionally to a foreign aid package and we can't do anything serious about climate change because while the G8 nations have made some progress in the last five years, neither the Chinese or India have made steps." Nate waited for a second. "Yes, I'll talk to you in July, Francois. Alright, bye."

"The French again?" Nicole asked.

"But of course." Nate answered in his best Pepe Le Peu imitation.

"Alright, mister. The boys' birthday party starts at 4:30 this afternoon and it would be nice if you would make an appearance or two before the cake does. Your sister is driving everyone insane by applying Marine discipline and precision to planning this wedding. So, what do you think about Gunny?" She asked, a genuine smile lighting up her face.

"I think the next few months around here are going to be really interesting." Nate moved around his desk and sat on the front edge. "It's a G8 summer, Congress might adjourn early, God willing."

"You don't want this playing out in the press?" Nicole questioned.

"I don't." He shook his head. "If it hits when Congress is out of session than by the time Congress reconvenes, something else will control the news-cycle hopefully."

"Kind of sounds like you're sending up a Hail Mary on this one." Nicole commented. "I had no idea how clueless some men could be, how could Gunny not know?"

"Did you tell him?" The President's eyes went wide.

"Not my place, besides while I'm pretty sure it could be something else and something serious, it's better he hear it from her." She answered. "I do intend on speaking with her some time in the immediate future though."

"Well, feel free because she reported in here about forty-five minutes ago to tell me she was feeling better." The President answered. Nicole gave a slow nod and headed for the door that would take her into Gunny's office. She moved through Gunny's office toward the communications office, eventually ending up at the door of the Press Secretary. She lightly tapped on the door.

"Good afternoon, ma'am." The Press Secretary instinctively stood to greet the First Lady.

"Afternoon, Stacy. Heard you weren't feeling well this morning." Nicole crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Yes, ma'am I think it was just a bit of the stomach flu." Stacy moved a subconscious hand to her lips.

"Has this been going on for a few days?" The First Lady asked.

"Yes, ma'am." Stacy nodded furtively. The First Lady motioned for her to come closer and when she did, Nicole laid the back of her hand across her forehead. "What are you doing, ma'am?"

"Stacy, I've been a mother for twelve years and in that time I've encountered countless colds, flues and various maladies that involve getting physically sick and in all that time I've learned one thing. No fever means no flu." Nicole smiled. "You have no fever." At that moment, Harriet entered the room.

"What are you saying, ma'am?" Stacy seemed slightly confused.

"You're pregnant." Harriet chirped in.

"No, that's not possible." Stacy shook her head rapidly.

"Are you a virgin?" Nicole asked.

"No." Stacy answered.

"Then it _is _possible." Nicole retorted.

"But, I'm on the pill." Stacy rationalized.

"I'm willing to bet you missed one." Harriet intervened. "In which case it can actually have the opposite effect. It's been known to happen."

"It's been a busy and kind of stressful few weeks, I never thought…" She suddenly turned introspective. "Oh my God!" She remarked under her breath. "I mean the only way to be sure is to take a test but if I go into a pharmacy for a test and run into a reporter or photographer or even a Congressional staffer this could become a thing."

"I can go get one for you." Harriet offered. "No one's going to notice or care if I go; it's one of the great benefits of being married to a wonderful man."

"Thank you, Harriet." Stacy replied, still looking a little shell shocked. "How did the two of you deduce all this from just vomiting?"

"Well, we had a little more help than that. Gunny described a list of symptoms including dizziness, back aches, fatigue, mild headaches, mood swings…" Nicole was cut off by Stacy at that moment.

"He said I was MOODY?" She raised her voice a little.

"Power down." Nicole coaxed. "Then there were the trials of odd food combinations. Something about pickles and pineapples."

"Does he know?" Stacy looked worried.

"Are you kidding? He described the symptoms twice, once to my husband and again to me and still thought you only had the flu." Nicole was laughing. "I figure that it's best for you to tell him, once you know for sure."

"Thank you, ma'am." Stacy gave the First Lady a quick hug. The second in as many days that Nicole was unprepared for.

"Just remember, if you are you know, it's a wonderful thing. And he's going to be at your every beck and call so milk it for all it's worth." Nicole laughed and put a conciliatory hand on Stacy's shoulder before heading out of the office.

2204 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

"Good evening, Mr. President." A.J. Chegwidden entered the Oval office. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes, A.J." The President looked up from the report that the Far East advisors had handed him this afternoon. "I was looking for a little assistance in the fatherhood department."

"Oh?" The Secretary of Defence was suddenly curious.

"Yeah, in the five weeks or so since his team lost the state hockey championship my son seems to have committed himself to training his brains out to be better next season. Now, I would normally applaud any effort on the behalf of my sons to be the best they can at what they love but Brad is twelve and in the last five weeks he's worked out more than I have in forty-seven years." The President laughed. "So, what I've been thinking is that he needs to have maybe a summer sport to let him get the exercise he wants but to kind of take his mind off hockey a little bit. I was never much of an athlete when I was younger so I wouldn't know where to start. But I was wondering if you could teach him how to pitch."

"That's an interesting request, Mr. President." A.J. stood their slightly confused. "Are you sure this is something you wouldn't prefer to do, sir?"

"God knows, with my job this is the last kind of thing I would want to do, I want to spend as much time with my kids as possible. But I know my son and if he's going to do something, he wants to be the best and if I teach him, he may never hit the plate." The President laughed somewhat caustically this time.

"Well, I'll see if I can't be of some kind of service here, Mr. President. After all, he is my nephew." A.J. and Nate walked out of the Oval toward the South Lawn. "Have you run into one of the thirty-odd kids that have been running around for the last half hour?"

"As of yet, no. But my wife said it would be wise for me to make an appearance before the cake does, and being as I hate sleeping on the couch and I love spending time with my sons, I figure that's a good idea." The President tapped the shoulder of the head of his security detail. "Pete, where are the boys right now?"

The agent called into his communicator to locate the boys. "Sir, they're playing baseball out on the South Lawn." Pete Simpson answered.

"Excellent." The President and Secretary of Defence navigated the corridors and hallways of the first floor of the White House before heading out on to the South Lawn.

"Hey dad!" Brad shouted from where they were playing. "Come on, play with us!" The kids cheered as the President approached the game. As was to be expected, the triplets were all on the same team and in order to evenly distribute the talent, Sasha along with Arleigh Chegwidden and Jimmy Roberts were on the other team. Nate smiled and stepped to the plate. Jack was catching behind the plate and handed his dad a bat. "Uncle A.J. you wanna be the umpire?"

"Sure." A.J. stepped in behind his other nephew to watch the strike zone. Nate tapped his Italian loafers with the bat and took a few practice swings before really stepping into the makeshift batter's box. Brad started his motions and went into the wind up. He brought his arm around for the release and rifled a pitch right down the pipe. Jack groaned and threw his glove off with the ball still in it.

"Strike!" A.J. called.

"Damn it, Brad." Jack rubbed his palm. "Ease off the heat, okay?"

On the pitcher's mound, Brad was laughing. "Sure, Jack." Brad caught the ball when it was thrown back to the mound. He watched Jack signal for the next pitch, went into the motion and threw a knuckleball that the President took a big swing at and missed miserably.

"Strike Two!" A.J. called.

"Been teaching him already, A.J?" Nate asked.

"Not me, sir." Chegwidden answered with a sly smile.

"Trying to strike out the old man, son?" Nate joked.

"Doing my best, dad." Brad answered.

"Come on, Uncle Nate, bring me home." Arleigh Chegwidden called from third base. Brad looked for his next pitch. Once he found it, he went into the wind up. He released a great hanging curveball but Nate got this one and sent a drive into what would technically be left centre field. Trying not to do too much damage to his shoes or slacks, Nate ran the bases, eventually making it to third before being stopped by the play. This brought Jimmy Roberts up to bat.

"Alright guys, two out and we've up by a run." Jack called out to his team before taking his place behind the plate again. Brad leaned in to examine Jack's signals before deciding on a pitch. He nodded and went into the wind up. He hurled another fastball that Jimmy only caught on a partial swing and bumped it toward the shortstop along the ground. Brad ran at it and grabbed it; he was in a footrace with his dad for home plate. Nate went into a slide with Jack between himself and the plate. When the dust cleared, A.J. was standing over the play. Jack's glove was between his dad's foot and the plate and Brad had dived and tagged his dad on the knee.

"You're out!" A.J. called and everyone got up off the ground.

"Gotcha, dad." Brad cheered and his dad mussed his hair.

"Good job, son." Nate was smiling ear to ear. Some days, there just was no beating the simple joys of life. "Who taught you how to pitch?"

"Secret Service." Brad answered with a smile. "One of my agents was a starter for USC."

"Of course." The President nodded with a fond smile decorating his face. "Okay, kids; who wants cake?!"

0118 ZULU

GUNNY'S APARTMENT

THREE BLOCKS FROM THE CAPITOL

"I can't believe I got an early night in!" Gunny cheered as he walked through the door. "And on a Thursday no less. You home, Stace?"

"Yeah." She answered meekly from the dark living room. He walked in and flipped the lights on in the living room.

"Why were the lights off? Were you having another headache or something?" He asked, the concern dripping from his voice.

"No, no, that's not it." She shook her head, not looking at him yet.

"Then what? Is it bad news?" He moved toward her and then sat next to her on the couch.

"Well, I guess it depends on how you look at it. I mean, I think it's good news, it's certainly unexpected news, it's tough to say." She still wasn't looking at him.

"If it's serious, tell me. I want to help you through anything." He put a hand on her back. She took a few very deep breaths and finally looked him in the eye.

"I'm pregnant." Her voice was barely more than a whisper but in his ears it resonated as if she shouted it in a church. He gulped. A lot of him wanted to smile but there was still a little bit of concern in his gut. He followed his first instinct and pulled her into a big hug.

"I love you." He whispered into her ear.

"You're not upset?" She asked, a little surprised by his reaction. "I was worried that you'd think…I don't know, that I trapped you or something."

"Well, I'm a little surprised." Gunny said. "But it's wonderful news." The concern on his face turned into a fond adoration. She began to weep a little bit but he cupped her face in his hands. "We'll get through this together. To be quite honest, the only thing I'm worried about is if House Republicans get wind of this, the "family values" crew isn't too hot on the whole unmarried pregnancy thing and I don't want you to go through this in the eye of the media."

"Gonna be kind of hard to hide in the press room." She commented, her mood starting to pick up.

"Well, I can order maintenance to make the podium wider." He joked and she lightly whacked him across the shoulder. "We have to tell the President tomorrow."

"Yeah, somehow I don't think that's going to be too much of a problem." Stacy gave him a wise smile and pulled him into another hug.

"_Motherhood __**is priced Of God**__, at price no man may dare to lessen or misunderstand."- Helen Hunt Jackson. _


	69. Someone Somewhere Maybe Happy

"_Puritanism: The haunting fear that __**someone, somewhere, may be happy**__**"**_- _H.L. Mencken_

It was early, even for the White House. Everyone had their business attire but it was an offence to common decency to actually wear one before seven in the morning. Charlie Scott was the first one into the Oval Office, complete with Yale sweatshirt and jeans. After him came Morley and Kat and finally Stacy and Gunny. The President had been waiting for all of them since about six that morning. "Alright, now that I've got senior staff present I would like to apologize on behalf of Stacy and myself." Gunny started. "For the last six months we've been together and everyone in this room deserved better than the secrets that we had to use."

The room was silent for about two minutes before Morley spoke. "Alright, pay up." He turned to Kat and Charlie who each reached into their wallets and pulled out fifty dollar bills. They each handed them to Morley.

"You two couldn't have waited until next month to tell us?" Charlie groused.

"You three knew?" Stacy questioned, the surprise evident on her face.

"Yeah, you two were really bad at not letting on. I mean in front of the press and junior staffers, it was like nothing ever changed. In front of us, let's just say, it was kind of obvious." Kat replied with a knowing nod.

"Okay, well, there's more news." Gunny continued. "Thanks to the miracles of the modern pharmaceutical industry, Stacy and I learned yesterday that we're expecting a child." In reaction to this news, Kat screamed and Charlie and Morley just smiled and gave Gunny a pair of good hearty handshakes.

"Alright, everyone calm down." The President stepped into the interrupt the love fest. "We need a media strategy on this one."

"We've got to get out in front of it." Charlie answered. "We don't come out with it unless someone else finds out but once asked, we come completely clean about it. That way we avoid any messy scandal."

"What do you mean by completely upfront?" Gunny inquired, staring down his younger Deputy Chief of Staff.

"The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth." Charlie answered. "Ante up with the media about the relationship, we're talking complete disclosure, a Barbra Walters special – though it would probably be easier to do Oprah – you'll also probably make a Newsweek cover, I say we just let the media saturate itself with this. People will tire of it faster if we indulge it than if we fight it."

"I agree." Morley chimed in.

"Excellent idea." Kat crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Hold up, hold up, hold up." Gunny raised his arms. "I have a problem with this."

"Yeah, I understand that." Charlie intervened. "But this is the best way to do things. If we stretch it out, it compromises the fall term, leaks into the budget compromise, the Republicans on the Hill start walking around like they've got us on the ropes because we have to deal with all this outside stuff when we should be focusing on the real political business here."

"I'm sorry to say, Gunny. But Charlie has a point." The President intervened again. "As much as I think that the private should remain private under any and all circumstances, which is just realistically not the case this time."

"It'll be painless, it'll be one press conference, a Newsweek interview, half an hour on Oprah and that's it." Morley argued. "Guys, we need this to go away once it breaks as a story. It's hopefully going to break some time around mid-July, by which time Congress should be out of session and we can handle this with hearing a lot of bellicose bullshit from the Hill."

"You guys are right." Stacy nodded reluctantly and Gunny looked at her, surprised at her attitude. She looked him in the eye and gave his hand a light pat. "We didn't want this to be a big thing, a public thing but we also should have known that our positions in the White House were going to render that dream impossible. So, for the sake of everyone around us, including ourselves, it's best to get the circus over with as fast as possible."

"I don't like this." He wearily shook his head.

"I know, but we've just got to get through it." She smiled at him that smile that melted his resistance no matter the disagreement.

"Alright, now Stacy I need you to leave the Office so we can talk behind your back for a minute." The President broke up the moment. Stacy laughed to herself before heading for the door. The door closed behind her and everyone honed their attention in on the President. "Okay, now to my knowledge, only Gunny and I have any experience in a workplace with a pregnant co-worker so needless to say, things are going to change rather drastically around here. The First Lady and Harriet Sims are going to be popping in a little more frequently to try and take some of the pressure off of us."

Everyone was smiling, even Gunny, which boded well for the next few months. "Gunny, I'm also granting a pre-emptive request for leave of absence effective one month before the projected due date, understood?"

"Yes, sir." Gunny nodded.

"Good, now get to work." The President ordered and then considered the shabby state of dress. "Well, we're stretching the meaning of casual Friday anyway."

1401 ZULU

ST. GREGORY'S

WASHINGTON, D.C.

"You like being the King of Athletics at this school, don't you?" Tim asked his brother Brad as they walked through the hallway. Brad had made the school baseball team at the final tryout this morning and was going to be pitching in his first game in a St. Greg's uniform tonight against St. Matt's.

"Imagine what it'll be like next year when I can play football?" Brad gave Tim a pat on the shoulder.

"Oh Lord, I'll have to put up with your ego all year." Tim rolled his eyes as the two of them ran into Sasha at their lockers.

"What's up guys?" She asked lightly.

"I made the baseball team." Brad boasted, grinning from ear to ear.

"Jock." Sasha commented derisively. "Anyway, we're performing Sleeping Beauty tonight in the auditorium. Brad, I realize it's your season opener tonight and while you'll be sorely missed, Tim I need to know if you're coming."

"I think so." Tim nodded.

"Aren't you like a stage hand? Does he really need to be there?" Brad humoured and Sasha whacked him in the shoulder. "Ouch."

"I'm not a stage hand. I'm playing Fauna, she's a fairy." Sasha reputed Bradley's sarcasm.

"_You're_ playing a fairy?!" Brad was about to burst with laughter. She whacked him on the shoulder again. "Ouch! You really need to stop doing that."

"Jack ass." Sasha answered his request.

"Hi, Brad." A tall, older blonde stopped by to speak with him.

"Hey, Lucy." Brad beamed a thousand watt smile at her.

"Heard you're the new ace for the baseball team." She got a little closer to him. "Is there anything you can't do?"

"BEDMAS." Sasha coughed under her breath. Brad tossed her annoyed look.

"No, I'm pretty special." He answered confidently.

"Don't need to tell me." She flirted, playing with the button on his uniform polo shirt. She leaned up and kissed him on the lips. It took a second but after a while Brad kind of fell into it. When she pulled away she plucked a pen from Tim's chest pocket and took Brad's hand. After a few quick scribbles, she handed the pen back to Tim. "Call me." She winked at him.

"Yeah, I'll do that." Brad muttered dreamily. A few seconds later, Jack came walking over.

"Was that Lucy Davis?" Jack asked, clapping Brad on the back.

"Yeah." Brad answered, still watching her strut away.

"Did she just kiss you?" Jack pressed further.

"Yeah." He nodded as he said it.

"You know that she's in the grade ahead of us, right? She's like the hottest girl in school." Jimmy Roberts chimed in.

"Yeah." Brad still sounded dreamy.

"Guys!" Sasha protested. "Girl standing right here."

"No offence, Sasha. You're not a girl." Jack replied. He pointed down the hall to Lucy. "_That's_ a girl." This time Sasha focused her wrath on him, in the form of a powerful no nonsense glare. "I'm just saying, she's got you know, legs and a strut and…"

"And what, Jonathan?" Sasha used her best Mrs. Ross impression. Jack went silent.

"And boobs." Jimmy Roberts chimed in without seeing the glare. Brad, Jack and Tim damned near broke out laughing then and there. "What? I thought that's what you were going to say." Jimmy turned to Jack who threw his arms into the air to signify surrender. Sasha turned her wrath on Jimmy who suddenly felt very small. Just as he was about to forward an explanation the bell sounded, telling students to get to class.

"Saved by the bell, Jimmy." Brad gave him a pat on the back and they started the walk to class.

"So, are you going to call her?" Jack asked, elbowing his brother in the side to goad him.

"Hell yeah!" Brad said enthusiastically.

"Alright." Jack pulled open the door for the group and they all ducked into class. Word tended to spread through this school like wildfire, by lunch everyone would know.

1641 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Harm walked through the hallways of the West Wing of the White House until he reached the outer office of the Oval. He saw the elderly and seemingly omnipresent Betty Clarkson, the President's Executive Secretary. "Good morning, Mrs. Clarkson."

"Good morning, Admiral." She looked over her thick Coke-bottle glasses at the computer screen. "Admiral, do you understand this internet thing?"

"A little bit, Mrs. Clarkson." He walked over toward her desk.

"Well, right now, there's some kind of advertisement on the screen about two men having relations with a woman at one time." She replied as if carefully examining the screen. "One would think that White House computers, with all their security would be protected against that kind of thing."

"Well, there's just one problem with that kind of thinking." Harm explained.

"And that is what, Admiral?" Mrs. Clarkson looked up at the tall Navy officer.

"White House computers aren't secure." Harm chuckled as he headed for the door to the Oval. "What's the President doing right now?"

"Meeting with the Senate Republican leadership." Betty answered. "You can feel free to head in now, Admiral."

"Thank you, Mrs. Clarkson." Harm gave the old woman a nod before heading through the door. It was kind of amusing to watch the Senate Republican leaders come to their feet when he entered.

"Hey, there's the new Chairman!" The President walked out from behind the desk and greeted Harm with a big hug. "Senate confirmed 82-14 with four abstentions today. Congrats, Harm."

"Good morning, Mr. Chairman." The Republican leaders nodded politely and shook Harm's hand.

"This is the point when I get to finally refer to Senators by their first names, right?" Harm laughed. "Ron, Ken, good morning. What are we talking about?"

"Coincidentally, the DoD appropriations for next year." The President stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Any thoughts, Mr. Chairman?"

"Well sir, I'm for the military getting all the money it needs but another multi-billion contract for some private firm that's going to go over-budget and over time on something we need imminently, I'm not sure I'm so hot on that, sir." Harm answered, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"This is what I've been telling these guys." The President indicated the two Senators present. "I've been saying that I want a lot more Senate oversight into these contractors before I sign another budget giving them another red cent of taxpayer money."

"Sounds good to me, Mr. President." Harm answered.

"Yes, well, we'll take this to our caucus, Mr. President but a lot of our colleagues come from states that boast a lot of business to military contractors." Senator Ron Maher answered.

"Actually, Senator," Harm interjected, "the states with the biggest business in military contracting are California, Virginia and Maryland. If memory serves, five Democratic Senators come from those states while only one Republican Senator does."

"Yes, well, just the same." Senator Ken Wilkinson vaguely replied as he and Senator Maher beat a hasty retreat from the Oval Office. The door shut behind them.

"See what we did there? That's called a double-team, basically I call in a senior advisor to help me beat Republicans over the head." The President was smiling. "See, traditionally what happens when the new Chairman of the JCS is confirmed, he has lunch with the President, so sit and have lunch with the President."

"Yes, sir." Harm laughed and took a seat on the couch.

"So, your brother is marrying my sister next month?" The President started.

"Yes, sir." Harm nodded. "I've already reminded him that if he hurts her, he'll have all manner of hell rained down on his head."

"Good man." The President answered. "She's my little sister, Harm. I don't care if she's a Marine. I'm walking her down the aisle next month, standing in for my father, and she's my little sister. If he hurts her, I swear to God, the CIA Director is going to get a call from me and so are the Commanders of the 101st Airborne, the 22nd MEU and SEAL Team Two, understood?"

"Alright, sir." Harm was laughing as the servers brought in some Fettuccine Alfredo for Harm and a cut of Filet Mignon for the President.

"Subsequently, the NHL Draft is in town on the same weekend as the wedding next month. My godson, Pavel Petrov, is going to be in town, he's an excellent player and expected to go high in the first round. I mention this because he's going to be at the wedding both as the representative of the Russian President and because I thought it would be nice for Sergei to have a fellow Russian there." The President crossed his legs at the ankles.

"That's very thoughtful Mr. President, thank you." Harm took his first bite of pasta. His eyes nearly shot out of his head. "Mr. President, this is fantastic."

"Thanks, it's my wife's recipe." The President grinned fondly.

"Really?" Harm seemed surprised again.

"One of the wondrous things about Italian women, they're remarkable cooks. If my boys are lucky, one of them will get the talent." The President humoured.

"Come to think of it, Mr. President, I recall Sergei lamenting having not been on skates since leaving the Academy." Harm cracked his knuckles. "Might be good for him to talk to a hockey player."

"He can go one better. Pavel's doing a training skate with Brad on Friday evening. He can join them." The President suggested.

"You don't think you're pushing your son's talent a bit too far, sir? I mean having him workout with a top NHL prospect." Harm cautiously inquired.

"No, I don't." Nate answered. "It was Brad's idea."

"Oh." Harm answered. "Well, in that case, I think Sergei would love to strap on his skates, sir."

2213 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

GREAT FALLS, VIRGINIA

Sasha was home for only a few minutes when her mom got home. She'd spent the large part of the first hour after school helping set up the stage for the performance tonight. When Mac walked in the door, she saw Sasha sitting on the couch looking a little sad. "What's up, Sash?" She took a seat next to her daughter.

"Boys suck." Sasha answered simply.

"I know." Mac gave her a hug and kissed the top of her head. "What did they do now?"

"Jack said I wasn't a girl, and Jimmy, probably accidentally, pointed out that real girls had boobs." Sasha rolled her eyes while saying it but a very small part of her wanted to cry.

"Honey, at your age, all boys are dumb." Mac joked and she got a small laugh out of her daughter. "Even at my age, most of them are. You just have to give back when they're insensitive point out that _real_ boys have a brain." Sasha laughed again. "What caused all this anyway?"

"Lucy Davis hit on Brad." Sasha answered simply.

"And this Lucy girl is older than you?" Mac asked.

"Two years." Sasha nodded.

"And by 'hit on', you mean?" Mac inquired further.

"She kissed him." Sasha answered again and answered her mother's disbelief with a simple nod. "Not like a peck either, like a full on, teen movie kind of kiss."

"So what?" Mac asked. "Some girls are ones you grow out of, some girls are the ones you grow into. It's good to be in the second category, you're in good company."

"Thanks, mom." Sasha was smiling again and gave her mom a big hug.

"Okay, sweetie. Now, go get ready for the play, alright? I'll gather up Matt and Tommy." Mac got up off the couch, walked to the bottom of the stairs and let out an ear-piercing whistle. "Boys, get ready!" She shouted and soon after an avalanche of feet came stampeding down the stairs.

"Guys, get ready, your sister's in a play at school, don't you want to go see her?" Mac crouched down to their eye level. Each of the boys nodded enthusiastically. Tommy ran over and tied his shoes while Mac sat Matt down and tied his. Seemingly within a minute, Sasha was back out in the entry hall to the house with her costume and she was ready to go.

"Is dad going to be there tonight, because he said he would?" Sasha asked as she slipped into her shoes.

"I know he'll try really hard, honey. It's his first day on the job, he's very busy but I'm sure he'll try." Mac replied as she got the kids to the door. "The good news is that your school is closer to his office than our house is so I'm sure he'll be able to pop in." Mac kissed the top of our head. "But none of that is going to matter if you miss the curtain call, now move, Marine!"

"Yes, ma'am." Sasha was grinning widely and headed out the door for the car with her mother and brothers following fast in her wake. The drive back into D.C. was surprisingly short considering the time of day. Mac still managed to get her daughter to the school thirty minutes before the curtain went up.

There was another event taking place at the school at the same time as the play. At the ball diamond behind the school, the St. Greg's team was playing Our Lady of Mercy. Brad was making his first start replacing a pitcher in the St. Greg's rotation who had gone down with a broken arm earlier in the week. In the stands, the First Lady sat on all sides flanked by Secret Service. She looked over at Jack who was sitting next to her. "Why's Brad starting in his first game?" Nicole asked her son.

"Because David Stimson got a broken arm earlier in the week and coach set up special tryouts for a replacement pitcher. Brad's only gonna maybe start four games this year, but it's a good set up for next year when coach will be counting on him to be one of their top two starters." Jack munched on some popcorn. So far, Brad had pitched six inning with only two hits, one walk, one earned run and five strikeouts. There were two outs already in the inning and Brad leaned in looking for the signal for his next pitch. He rifled a hanging curve over the outside corner of the plate that the batter popped up to shortstop. That was the end of the inning.

0150 ZULU

ST. GREGORY'S

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The play had ended and the crowd was on their feet. Harm was lucky enough to duck into the play five minutes after it started and once it was done, he was the first one to his feet in order to applaud. "Do you think she noticed that I came in late?" Harm whispered to his wife.

"I think you were lucky enough not to be so egregiously late as to have anyone notice who isn't sitting near us. You're also lucky enough to be the highest ranking military officer in the country, so anyone who did notice isn't going to be stupid enough to bring it up to you." Mac answered through a tight smile and loud applause. "She's been rehearsing for this for six months; you couldn't book an early night?"

"I'm sorry, Mac, in the last six months, I've been through two duty stations, a major international crisis, a Senate confirmation hearing and my first day on the job as the chief military advisor to the President of the United States was today. In spite of all this, I still managed to not only make it into the play but I made it in before my daughter was even on stage for the first time. I think I did pretty good." Harm whispered his rebuttal through gritted teeth.

"We'll talk about this later." She answered and Harm rolled his eyes. Eventually, the crowd dispersed into the reception area where the school had set up Hawaiian punch and Goldfish crackers so the parents could have some refreshments while they awaited the return of their children. Harm and Mac ran into the Ross boys, the First Lady and the Roberts family out in the hallway. Brad was still in his ball uniform but everyone else looked presentable. "Hey guys." Mac greeted with a half smile.

"Good evening, ma'am, sir." Bud greeted.

"Evening, Bud." Harm nodded. "How are things at JAG?"

"Not the same without everyone there, sir." Bud answered in a somewhat muddled sentence. "See, what I mean, sir is that…"

"I know what you mean, Bud." Harm assured his friend can I talk to you for a minute. Harm pointed away from the crowd. The two men walked about ten paces and stopped. "Listen, Bud, the Joint Chiefs are in need of a staff Judge Advocate, it's usually a one star billet and one of only two available to JAGs looking to make the big chair. But rather than send you out to San Diego to JAG the Pacific, nominating you for this billet keeps you close to your family. What do you say?"

The whirlwind of emotions running through Bud Roberts' mind at that moment could not be expressed in words. So, he just launched himself at Harm and wrapped him in a massive bear hug. "Thank you, sir!" Bud answered once he was finally able to get words out.

"Ease off, Bud." Harm answered and Bud loosened his grip on his superior officer. "Now, I'll put your name up for the assignment but being the Chairman of the JCS has certain advantages and your name will be put up in front of the next promotions board for flagging. Now, I think it's best we get back to the wives." Harm clapped Bud on the shoulder. "What do you say?"

"Yes, sir." One would swear Bud's smile could be detected from space. "So, what's with the uniform, Brad?" Bud asked as they rejoined the group.

"Just started my first game for the baseball team." Brad was smiling from behind the sweat and dirt on his face. "Went the distance, gave up four hits, two walks, one earned run and threw seven strikeouts. Not bad for my first time out."

"No, not bad at all." Harm answered and congratulated the young boy. At that moment, Sasha came out of the dressing room. "Hey, there's our favourite fairy." Harm cheered as he saw his daughter. He could swear he heard Jimmy, Brad and Jack snicker at the word fairy.

"Hey, daddy." She gave her father a hug. "Hey you." She smiled at Tim.

"This is a little odd for me. Normally, it's you waiting for me to come out of a dressing room." He answered; giving her that sly grin that made her glad she was still hugging her dad otherwise she wouldn't have trusted the structural integrity of her knees. "You were great."

"Thanks, I was nervous." She chuckled lightly.

"Couldn't tell." Tim assured her. The two of them started to talk as a part of the larger group. The First Lady took a second to disengage her eyes from the conversation to see Brad down the hallway speaking with a blonde girl that was maybe only two or three inches short of being equal to his height. She tapped Jack on the shoulder. "Lucy Davis?"

"Yeah." Jack nodded.

"Your brother's got his head in the clouds." Nicole muttered, half to herself, half to herself.

"Yeah, luckily he's not using it to think." Jack joked and immediately could feel his mother's glare burning into the back of his skull.

"Jonathan." She issued the stern one word warning.

"Sorry, mom." Jack hung his head.

0203 ZULU

GUNNY'S APARTMENT

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Gunny staggered into his apartment late that night. "Hey, honey! How was the visit to Dr. Travers today?"

"Good." She was tossing a salad in the kitchen. "He says that I'm about six weeks pregnant, that the baby is healthy, that I'm healthy and more importantly that you should listen to me and follow every order I give so that life is made as easy as possible around here for the next eight months."

"Did he really say that last thing?" Gunny popped his head around the corner. "Because I can have you see the Surgeon General and she can give me the actual recommendation."

"Yeah, that would work or you could just accept that I added the last thing and it's remarkably true and it really would make our lives easier." She smiled at him.

"What's with the salad?" He asked.

"Can't stomach red meat right now." She answered. "What's with the bulging briefcase?"

"Sent my assistant to Barnes and Noble to buy every pregnancy book she could find. Then she called me and informed me that they had a couple hundred pregnancy books, so I ended up with five." He pointed to the briefcase,

"You're really going all out." She seemed slightly amused.

"Of course. But somehow I get the feeling that I will play a much more important role if I just do everything you tell me." Gunny wrapped her in a hug.

"Of course." She replied flirtatiously.


	70. An Adventure, Like Going to War

"_Marriage is __**an adventure, like going to war."**__ – G.K. Chesterton_

Pavel Petrov was exhausted and for once this week, it had nothing to do with being an NHL prospect a few days before the draft. He had just spent the last ninety minutes on the ice with Bradley Ross, and only after that did he understand why the twelve year-old was called a prodigy. Skating speed was determined by skating one lap around the ice, a respectable time for a junior hockey player (someone between the ages of sixteen and twenty) was twenty-one seconds; Brad did it in twenty-five flat. Most junior hockey players have a slap-shot with a speed just north of ninety miles an hour; Brad's was slightly north of seventy.

The two of them walked into the White House just after 8:30 that night. Pavel said goodbye to Brad in Russian before heading into the Oval to see the President. "Mr. President!" Pavel was quite jovial as he entered the office.

"Pavel!" The President got out from behind the desk and wrapped the young Russian in a hug. "So, you look like you've been put through quite a workout."

"Your son, he's quite a winger, Mr. President." Pavel took a seat. "He's a fast but smooth skater; a hard and heavy shot. But sir, I've never seen a kid that accurate with a shot; not at his age. This kid could be drafted into Junior B hockey in Canada and with the exception of his size, he'd fit in really well. He's too good to play middle school hockey in Maryland."

"You sound worried." The President finally took a seat opposite of him.

"It's just; can I drop 'Mr. President'?" The young Russian asked. Nate nodded. "Uncle Nate, hockey is a tough team sport. If the player is only good, then he needs the team to make him look great. If the player is great and the team is good, then he thinks he needs the team to look great. If the player is good and the team is bad, and the player knows it and his ego inflates. This is bad." Pavel's English was starting to reach the limit of what two years in the Canadian Juniors had done for it. "He needs to keep, how you say, character. Character building to quash ego."

"He needs to be challenged?" The President asked. "Is that what you're saying?"

"I think so, yes." Pavel nodded tepidly. "If there is something that is hard, or that he is not good at, he must learn that he is but one cog in a giant machine."

"Okay, thank you, Pavel. I know this must have been an awkward thing to say to a father about his son." The President smiled fondly. "So, how is it playing Major Junior A hockey in Canada. You play for…I know it starts with an 'S'." The President shook his head to berate himself.

"Sault Ste. Marie, Uncle Nate." Pavel answered. "It's good, we've made the playoffs in the last two years and I put up 107 points this year."

"Excellent!" The President cheered. "Who's given you the biggest looking over this draft week?"

"Well, I've met with the Montreal Canadiens, the Buffalo Sabres and the Florida Panthers three times each over the last week." Pavel was smiling. "It's really no problem that I sleep here, right?"

"None at all." The President gave him a pat on the back.

"And your son asked about coming to the First round of the Draft with me tomorrow. He thinks it'll be fun." Pavel inquired and the two men stopped their walk.

"Just realize, that if he goes, it moves the spotlight a little off your big moment. He's got Secret Service protection and a media spotlight all his own. If he goes with you, if he sits with you and your name gets called, you may have to share the spotlight and you shouldn't have to." The President put a hand on his shoulder. "You're about to realize your dream and for the two minutes after your name is called, it should be all about you."

"And that's part of the problem, sir." Pavel had a fond smile on his face. "It's a team sport and I'm sharing the spotlight that day anyway. Thirty men get picked in the first round. I will not be the first pick, or even the fifth pick. As many as ten men are going to be picked before me, I am already sharing a spotlight. Is there so much difference between thirty men and thirty-one?"

The President just shook his head and marvelled at the job that Nikolai had done raising the eighteen year-old that stood in front of him. He gave the young man a pat on the shoulder. "Don't tell anyone, okay? But of all my godchildren, I always knew there was a reason that you were my favourite." The President commented.

"Yes, sir." The young Russian laughed and the two men headed to the East Wing. Along the way, the President was intercepted by the First Lady. The President sent Pavel on his way in order to speak with the First Lady.

"What's up, honey?" The President put a hand on the small of her back and guided the two of them into the living room.

"You remember a couple of months ago when I kind of blew up at you about making decisions about the kids without consulting me?" She started tepidly.

"It rings a bell, yeah." The President nodded slowly.

"Well, I kind of did the same thing about a month ago when I signed the boys up for dancing lessons so they wouldn't be wallflowers at the wedding." She explained very quickly before taking a seat on the couch.

"You had the boys learn how to dance?" A wide smile broke out on the President's face.

"I made sure their instructor was cute, so they'd enjoy it." She answered. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because it's funny!" The President replied through a laughing fit. "I'm sorry; I've got this mental picture in my head. How'd they do after their month long tutorial?"

"Well, it was pretty much you'd expect; athleticism won the day." Nicole rolled her eyes. "Just once, I wish that Tim wasn't outshined by his brothers in some exercise like this."

"Hey, hey, hey." The President wrapped his arms around his wife. "Everyone's talented in their own way. So, Tim is more academically inclined, so was I and I think the place we're standing right now speaks for itself."

"You're a good dancer." Nicole pointed out.

"True, but that's only because my mother signed me up for lessons without the General knowing." The President hinted. "All good mothers do it. Besides, this could have been predicted, there is a degree of athleticism to dancing, so the best athlete is going to have some advantage. Oh and I need to talk to you about two things, one is that Brad wants to go to the first round of the draft tomorrow evening with Pavel. Pavel loves the idea, I'm just awaiting your approval."

"What does the Secret Service think?" She asked.

"Well, Pete Simpson overheard me speaking with Pavel so, I imagine that Pete has already radioed into Brad's agents who'll be heading out to the MCI Center tonight to set up the most realistic protection plan for Brad tomorrow amid the chaos of Draft day." The President answered. "Second, Pavel was explaining to me the results of a hockey player far outperforming the talent pool of which he is a part. He was telling me how coaches will normally assign character building exercises to the players to keep them in check."

"So, what are you considering for Brad?" Nicole laid her head against her husband's chest.

"My cousin Carl and his wife Millie have a farm in Hempfield, Pennsylvania. It's a dairy farm, which is a lot of work already but they've also got this fence that seemingly needs to be rebuilt every summer. It's good, honest hard work. I went up to the farm when I was twelve and so did both of my brothers." The President explained. "It's six weeks, we get him back halfway through August."

"Yeah, I know, it's just…." She shook her head. "I didn't think we were at that maturity point yet with the boys."

"Yeah, sneaks up on you." Nate laughed. "Just present it to him as the ultimate training camp."

"I'm still not sure he'll go for it." Nicole shook her head as they headed for the bedroom.

0230 ZULU, FRIDAY

CHEGWIDDEN HOUSE

MCLEAN, VIRGINIA

"Albert! Albert!" A booming British tenor sounded from the living room. "If this is to be a proper stag party, I shall require a bottle of Lagavulin to soothe my savage breast before the festivities commence."

A.J. Chegwidden rolled his eyes. He couldn't understand how he was the one who got stuck with putting up the British relatives for the weekend. Then he reminded himself that his wife had always been particularly fond of them, for reasons unbeknownst to the world at large and as such, he was stuck with them for the next seventy-two hours. Also, because the Secretary of Defence, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and CIA Director were all going to be at this bachelor party, it was in his best interest to keep the thing as restrained as possible.

At the moment, he was hoping for reinforcements so that he wouldn't have to deal with the lunatic Brits on his own for much longer. As if his prayers were answered, the doorbell rang behind him. He trotted over and flung the door open to see Webb standing there drenched with rain. "I come bearing gifts." Webb handed A.J. a bottle of Lagavulin and a bottle of Jack.

"How did you know they'd been demanding this all day?" A.J. inquired suspiciously.

"I'm the CIA Director; it's my job to know." Webb answered as he moved into the house. "No one else here yet?"

"Not yet, I just spoke to Harm, he's on his way." A.J. answered as he set the bottle of Jack on the counter in the kitchen. He walked into the living room and tossed the bottle of Lagavulin into the fray of British hands that scrambled for it. "That's good, that should keep them entertained for about ten minutes."

"You hope, right?" Webb joked as yet another knock came at the door. They both moved for the door but A.J. got there first. He opened it to see Mikey and Bud Roberts standing in the rain holding a box of cigars. "Roberts?" Webb questioned.

"Two of them." Mikey replied as they walked into the house.

"Nice to see you, Lieutenant." A.J. shook Mikey's hand. "And you Rear Admiral Roberts."

"Thank you, sir." Bud nodded to his old CO. "Is Admiral or Major Rabb here yet, sir?"

"Not yet." A.J. answered.

"Albert!" That same British tenor called from the living room again.

"Those would be my wife's British cousins." A.J. winced. "I have to house them for the weekend. And my wife doesn't have to deal with them since the girls are out doing, whatever the hell it is they do the night before a wedding." A.J. turned his head to Webb. "Go turn on the music, maybe we can drown them out."

"God willing." Webb rolled his eyes and headed for the living room.

"So, Mikey, I hear you're the best man tomorrow." A.J. gave the young man a pat on the back. "It's a time honoured tradition, the least you can do is just get him drunk and the most you can do is…"

"Wind up in prison with him, yes sir." Mikey Roberts answered. "I think it's in the best interest of all involved if we avoid doing that again."

"You're a wise man, Mr. Roberts. You should be up for Lieutenant Commander during the next round of the O-4, right?" The Admiral asked.

"I believe so, yes sir." Mikey gave a nod.

"Good, we'll see what we can't do on that front when the time comes." A.J. guided the two men into the living room hoping that an increased presence could keep a tighter rein on the Hendley-Ross clan. The music seemed to have succeeded in drowning out most of their noise and where it failed, the baseball game that Webb had turned on in the other room picked up the slack. A.J. went into the other room with the ball game and set out the card table with the chips, the cards, the booze, the cigars and the potato chips. After about five minutes, the doorbell rang and this time Webb was on it.

"Man of the hour is here!" Webb called out so that anyone in the house could hear. Sergei and Harm walked into the house to see the A.J. Chegwidden and the Roberts walking into the entry way with cigars stuck in their mouths. The Hendley-Ross men ran in with glasses of scotch in their hands.

"Let's bring'em in and get him good and pissed!" One of them called from the midst of the crowd. Before the door could close behind them, another foot was stuck in.

"Oh right, we brought him with us!" Harm turned back to the door. "Guys, this is Pavel Petrov, the eighth overall draft pick of the Montreal Canadiens in this year's NHL Entry Draft and the son of the current Russian President."

"Nice to meet you." Webb shook the young man's hand first and was followed by Mikey Roberts, A.J. Chegwidden, Bud Roberts and then several members of the Hendley-Ross clan. For fifteen minutes, the poker game went on as planned, the booze flowed freely and cigar smoke hung heavy in the air. Then the door burst open to reveal two women in police uniforms.

"Excellent! The entertainment has arrived." The Brits cheered as the female police officers began to peel off their clothes to loud rock music.

"Isn't this exactly the kind of thing we were trying to avoid, sir?" Harm looked at A.J.

"Yeah." A.J. nodded. "I really just hope that there are no press nearby. Mr. Rabb, how do we get them to leave?"

"No idea, sir." Harm shook his head. At that moment, a Marine in Class A uniform came through the door with an MP badge on his sleeve and a whistle in his mouth. He blew the whistle repeatedly and ushered the women out of the house, the Admiral's British guests tossing singles at them as they went. When the door was closed, the Marine finally looked up at the current party guests.

"Sorry, I was late. I looked through the window and saw you guys looking a little panicked so I remembered that I had this MP badge in my car and decided to put it to use." Johnny Reb answered with a fond smile. "Figured it was wise to avoid scandal tonight."

"Wise man." Harm answered.

"Hope, I'm welcome." Reb chanced looking at Sergei.

"Awful hard to have a wedding without all my groomsmen." Sergei answered with a fond smile. He walked over and gave him a hug. "Now, pay into the poker game, damn it!"

1440 ZULU

NATIONAL CATHEDRAL

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The Cathedral was huge. One of the more obscure facts about the National Cathedral is that it's so big that the Washington Monument can be laid on its side inside the Cathedral's walls. There was a good mix of military uniforms and formal attire in the crowd. Sergei had been able to control his cold feet fairly well this morning considering that Mikey had only had to spend five minutes talking him in off the porch at the Admiral's. Harm still had vivid memories of his wedding day and the near hour that several of his friends had spent calming his cold feet. Not to mention Harriet's masterful night long talk with Mac. Now, he stood at the front of the church with Johnny Reb and his brother as Mikey Roberts led Helene Ross, Anna's Matron of Honour, up the aisle. Harm looked across the aisle to see the First Lady and Anna's other sister-in-law Nina standing there looking toward the back of the church.

Mikey stood between Harm and Sergei. "Make sure you prop him up." Harm advised the best man. "Because the second he sees her, his knees are going to buckle."

"Yes, sir." Mikey chuckled to himself and the mumbling on the groom's side was hushed when Reverend Chegwidden cleared her throat at the front of the church and tossed them a glare. So, now at the front of the church, there were two Marines in dress uniform and two naval officers in dress whites; and three very beautiful women wearing lime green bridesmaids' dresses because the bride obviously took the spirit of bridesmaids to heart. Harm looked down and saw Secretary Chegwidden sitting in the second row looking fondly up at his wife who was preparing to preside over the ceremony.

The organ music flared up as the march began to play and all heads turned to the back of the cathedral. Once again, the reason that weddings in the National Cathedral are interesting ceremonies is because of the length of the church. The wedding march is really long in that instance, but it was obviously the President's intention to make Sergei a little antsy and he succeeded quite easily. Eventually they made it up to the front of the church and the President very slyly handed Sergei a piece of paper. Sergei unfolded the small shred and read the note. _"Just remember, I can make it look like an accident."_

"And who gives this woman to this man?" Reverend Chegwidden inquired.

"I do, reverend." Nate gave Anna's hands to Sergei and took a seat next to his mother in the front pew of the church. It was amazing to watch Beverly Chegwidden at work, it put to shame anyone that ever said that a woman was somehow less able to preach the word of God to the masses. In front of a massive church audience she held them in the palm of her hand as she spoken of love, and truth and partnership and the covenant of marriage. Eventually, the time came for the vows and Sergei took Anna's hands a little more firmly and gazed into her eyes. "I, Sergei Harmonovych Rabb do take you, the love of my life, as my wife. I promise that for so long as I draw breath I shall love you. That for so long as blood runs through my veins, my heart will beat only for you. That I will toil to provide for you. And that I will cherish our every moment together for how precious it is and how fortunate I am to share it with you."

There were several women in the church that were damn near tears after hearing Sergei's vows. Perhaps fortunately for the photographers, three of them were the bridesmaids. From where he was standing, Harm was also pretty sure that Anna was crying. He wasn't sure that she was so glad that she's taught him English now. Beverly quietly reminded Anna that it was her turn to speak. In a quiet voice, because that was the only tone where she was sure she could control the timber of her voice without sounding trill and emotional. At the end, Beverly Chegwidden smiled fondly and nodded. "What God has put together, let no man put asunder." She announced to the church. "I now pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss the bride." Sergei lifted Anna's veil and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

After some time elapsed, well to be quite honest, this is the wedding of the President's sister and there were multiple hundreds of people there; after quite a lot of time elapsed, it was time for Sergei and Anna to make their exit from the church. Mikey Roberts was leading the arch procession this time. "Officers, draw swords!" He called and three Marines and three Naval officers drew their swords. "Officers, arch swords!" He called again and three pairs of blades clanged together. "Blades to the wind." Mikey let out a third command and the sword blades were turned. "Presenting for the first time in public, Major and Mrs Sergei Rabb!" Sergei and Anna proceeded through the arch. Once they reached the end, Mikey brought his sword down across Anna's butt and called "Go Navy!"

There was laughter from the multitude of Marines in the audience and even Johnny Reb who was standing across from Mikey. On Mikey's order, the officers returned their swords to their sheathes and got ready to make for the reception at the White House.

1715 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The party that Anna and Nicole had set up at the White House was a truly impressive affair. Of course, some things were the status quo, the White House chef was the only one permitted to cook for the President because of Secret Service protocol. Men in dark suits with little earpieces stood watch over the room from seemingly every corner. They'd had the meal, they'd had the toasts and now they were at everybody's favourite part, the dancing.

Well, the women seemed to enjoy it, the guys seemed reluctant to actually get to their feet; with the exceptions of the men in happy relationships. Harm, Nate, Sergei and Secretary Chegwidden all seemed perfectly content to shuffle around the dance floor among the wide array of guests. The President looked over at his eldest son (by about twenty minutes) and the young blonde girl in his arms, he had to laugh. Kids grew up so damn fast. "So, that's the infamous Lucy Davis, huh?" The President whispered to his wife.

"Yes, Nathan, that's her." Nicole replied in a very no nonsense tone.

"Doesn't it bother you that our son has had two girlfriends and he isn't even able to apply for a job at McDonald's yet?" The President inquired.

"You know how kids are at that age, they're 'going out' with a new person every week just so they can look really mature and break up with someone." Nicole laughed a little.

"I'm just saying, I didn't dance like that with a girl until I was fourteen. I'm proud of the boy." Nate chuckled to himself and Nicole playfully whacked her husband on the shoulder. "Now, I was talking to Harriet and she said that you managed to convince this thing called a _Lifehouse_ to play."

"Since when did you become an out of touch middle-aged man?" Nicole questioned playfully.

"I'm forty-seven. I am an out of touch middle-aged man. What is this Lifehouse?" The President was obviously curious.

"They're the band, it was Anna's idea because they apparently have this song that was playing in the car on their first date." Nicole answered. "Now, do I need to make sure that you get weakly pop culture updates from your daughter?"

"Where is Helene, anyway?" The President looked around the room.

Indeed, where was Helene seemed to be a question matched only by the other side of the wedding party asking, where is Mikey Roberts? The maid of honour and the best man were over by the bar and Mikey was telling Helene all about what it was like to be on the deck of a surface ship during the China crisis back in December. He had the eighteen year-old completely enraptured in his story telling. And because he was a red-blooded, young man he was casting periodic glances away from her eyes and into her cleavage. The two of them traded a few jokes and flirtatious comments until Helene's Aunt Nina came and pulled her away from the conversation.

At that moment, Admiral Harmon Rabb decided to walk over to the bar. He saw Mikey already there and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "That was a hell of a toast, Mikey." Harm commented. "What are you drinking?"

"Nothing at the moment, sir." Mikey pointed to the empty glass.

"Good, then this one's on me." Harm leaned on the bar. "Two Johnny Walker Blues." Harm told the bartender and looked over to see Mikey Roberts' gaze cast longingly upon the dance floor. "Something pretty catch your eye, Mr. Roberts?"

"Yes, sir." Mikey said, not moving his eyes for his gaze had caught Helene's again. And slow though he had been at picking up on Mac's signals way back when, he was able to readily observe Mikey's behaviour.

"You're asking for a world of trouble, Mikey." Harm sipped at the scotch set out in front of him.

"Just looking, sir." Mikey replied, not tearing his eyes away.

"Trust me, that's how it starts." Harm handed him his drink. "It always starts with a look. On this one, do the smart thing and gouge out your eyes." Harm moved away from the bar and disappeared back into the crowd. Mikey still just stood at the bar watching the tall olive skinned figure gracefully go about her way with her family.

In the middle of the dance floor, Gunny was dancing with Stacy. The noise in the room seemed to ceaselessly escalate. There were people shouting at other people, and all of a sudden it felt as if the heat had been turned up. He felt the sudden onset of a massive headache and he closed his eyes hard . His heart began to race in his chest, he needed to get out. He couldn't run to the West Wing, which would take him passed a pool of press photographers. He decided to run for the staircase that would take him to the second floor of the residence.

Gunny's absence had been noticed not only by Stacy but by Eileen Ross who'd begun watching him when he first began to twitch nervously. Both of them headed for the staircase but the elder Ross woman explained to Stacy what she thought happened and why having a doctor around might be useful. Eileen climbed the stairs at a brisk pace to find Gunny sitting at the top with his bowtie undone and his head in his hands. His breathing was slowly returning to normal. "Doctor Ross, ma'am." Gunny acknowledged. "What the hell was that?"

"What did you experience?" Eileen asked.

"I don't know, I had a headache, a ringing in my ears, my heart was racing, I couldn't breath, everything got louder, I was sweating it just all seem to happen at once." He gulped and blinked hard.

"If I had a guess, I would say you just had your first traumatic episode." Eileen answered. "Well, maybe not your first, but certainly your most intense one."

"What? What the hell are you talking about?" Gunny looked up at her.

"You just experienced what is known as intrusion." She explained. "It's a traumatic episode, a living re-enactment of a trauma you've suffered. With you, it's likely the shooting from December a couple years back. You experienced symptoms of anxiety that were brought on by a trigger that sent your mind back to that day."

"What was it?" Gunny asked.

"I don't know for sure." She answered honestly. "But you complained to Stacy about the noise, perhaps the crowd and the elevated voices made you think of the rope-line from that night. But most episodes don't cause that quick a reaction. Even if you were stewing for an hour amongst the noise, that wasn't enough time."

"So what was it?" Gunny leaned forward, his elbows digging into his knees.

"Have you ever had flashbacks of that day? Or nightmares?" Dr. Ross had fallen back into her practice very fast.

"When I can sleep. I have to say, I've been getting less of it since then." He replied.

"Insomnia's a symptom, so are the nightmares. What can you remember? What's the first thing your mind goes to?" She asked.

"The motorcade…" he gulped again, "when it pulls up to the sidewalk, the lead police escorts lets out a short blip of his siren, it's not very long but it's there. What does this have to do with anything?"

"It wasn't the crowd that set you off." Dr. Ross answered. "The whole day kind of has, the limos, the motorcade, the crowd, they all played their part but what set you off was the organ music in the church."

"The organ music? And then the piano in the hall?" Gunny checked.

"That's right." Dr. Ross nodded.

"But why?" Gunny asked.

"Well, it's a peculiar thing about the mind, it likes free association and right now it associates any keyboard sound you hear with…" He cut her off.

"With the siren of the lead police escort." Gunny answered. "It's Post-traumatic stress?"

"It is, but there's good news." She encouraged him to stand. "You know what it is, and you've got people around you who can help you deal with it. My door's always open." And they headed back down the stairs.

Down in the reception hall, Harriet Roberts was sitting in a chair rubbing the bottom of her feet, she hated these damn shoes. Mikey came over to the table and sat across from her. "How you doing, little brother?" Harriet asked jovially.

"Waiting to get a dance with the maid of honour." Mikey replied with a fond smile.

"Don't do it, Mikey. Don't fall for this girl." Harriet cautioned.

"Why is everyone so damn worried?" He asked, slightly incredulous.

"Because you've got that damn twinkle in your eye like A.J. or Jimmy get when they see the tree on Christmas morning." Harriet answered. "Don't fall for this girl."

"Why not?" Mikey pressed.

"Because I've worked with her family for five and half years now and let me tell you something, you're not at the same stage in life. She's just turned eighteen, she's heading off to Boston College in September and her parents are very protective of her. You're thirty-two, you spend more than half the year at sea and you're big enough to make your own decisions so Bud and I aren't that protective of you." Harriet answered very matter-of-fact. "Don't fall for her."

"Whatever, Harriet, it's just a dance." Mikey shook his head and took off across the dance floor. He caught the eyes of Helene as she was heading toward him as well.

"Been ignoring me, Lieutenant?" She teased. "My father's the Commander in Chief, you know? I could get you in a lot of trouble."

"_You_ are a lot trouble." He replied with a coy grin.

"But totally worth it, right?" She toyed.

"I don't know." He faked pondering.

"And why not?" She asked.

"Because you haven't danced with me yet." He gave her a true bright smile as he came just a little closer.

"Oh, good answer, Lieutenant." She moved into his arms and they began to dance.

About an hour later, and with the party still raging downstairs, the President took Brad upstairs to the second floor of the mansion to explain the summer to him. They sat in his dad's study and Brad watched his dad pace the floor nervously.

"Son," Nate started, "your mother and I think it would serve your future best if you spent the summer with your Uncle Carl up at the farm in Pennsylvania."

"Why?" Brad asked.

"Well, doing farm chores builds muscle and makes you tough." The President explained. It was the truth. Besides, he was having a tough time thinking of how you explained character to a twelve year-old. "I did it at your age, so did your Uncle Preston and your Uncle Steve. So did my dad and all his brothers. Every Ross has going back to when the farm first started way back in 1734."

"That's ancient." Brad rolled his eyes. "So, why not send Tim and Jack too?"

"Well, son." Nate crouched down a little. Not so much any more. Damn Brad was getting tall. "Some kids just get to that stage faster than others. I got there faster than my brothers too."

"Cool." Brad seemed a little impressed. "Isn't this like really hard?"

"Yeah, but it makes a man out of you." Nate chuckled. "Watch the girls go nuts when you come back." His reward for saying that was an immediate increase in the depth of his son's interest.

"I don't know, dad. Lucy's already a lot. I'm not sure I can handle more then one." Brad commented.

"You're getting really smart, you know that?" Nate mussed his son's hair. "Come on, let's go back to the party so you don't leave your girlfriend waiting. I don't want to get you in trouble."

"How would I get in trouble?" Brad asked, slightly confused.

"And yet, so much left to learn." Nate muttered to himself as they headed for the stairs. Had they been only a few minutes faster, they would have encountered Mikey and Helene running up the stairs into the residence.

Helene pushed open the door to her bedroom and pushed Mikey inside. They were all over each other to say the least. Not that either of them really minded at all.

"This isn't right, I mean you've only got four months before school." Mikey managed to get out.

"You ever have a summer romance, Lieutenant? Those four windswept months where you're carefree and consequences be damned." She pushed him on to the bed. "I want one of those before I go away. I want you. If you're good, we can have next summer too, but let's deal with this one first." She kissed the end of his nose. "What do you say."

"Yes, ma'am." Mikey answered. She giggled, stole his cover and headed for her en suite. She had retrieved something from her dresser on the way in. A few seconds later she came back out wearing only a dress shirt and his cover. His eyes travelled all the way up her legs, over the curvature of her hips to her deep brown eyes and shoulder length black hair that fell elegantly out from under the Navy cover. "Permission to come aboard, ma'am?" He chanced.

"Permission granted, Lieutenant." She answered as she sauntered toward the bed.


	71. Films About Ghosts

"_If dreams are like movies, than memories are __**films about ghosts.**_**" **_– Counting Crows_

Some great poet somewhere, and it may have been a rock and roll songwriter once said that the tragedy of the seasons is that summer has to end. It's really only tragic if you love summer, or at least the one you're having. But as the last week of August rolled around, things around the White House started to kick back into gear. In the course of one week, Brad would return from the farm, Helene would be off to Boston, Congress would be back in session and school would start again. In a lot of ways, it was the busiest week of the year. Then one added on to that the birthdays of Matthew Rabb and Hannah Ross all in the same span of time and it became almost too much.

Today though, the big buzz around the White House was the return of the prodigal son from the farm in Pennsylvania. The President and First Lady were obviously anxious to see their son after his eight weeks away. Jack Ross was happy that Brad was going to be back because Brad was basically his partner in crime and best friend. Tim had mixed feelings. While he loved his brother for the kind of presence he was able to bring to any room, but that was the same thing he kind of resented. Brad was his age but able to be larger than life if he wanted to be.

The family stood on the portico waiting for Brad to come striding up with his Secret Service detail. When he finally did, it was a real shock. He had put on four inches of height since he'd left and at least ten pounds of muscle. He was tanned from head to toe and his hair was at least two inches longer but he looked like Brad. His jeans were tattered and torn and so was the pale blue flannel t-shirt he was wearing. His Phillies cap looked like it was twenty years old. Brad came jogging up the portico and pulled his dad into a hug. Despite only being twelve, the kid now possessed some serious physical power and damn near knocked the wind out of his dad.

"It's great to be back!" Brad cheered as he moved over to hug his mom. He was now her height and he proceeded to lock her in a bear hug and he lifted her into the air. This caused Nate and Jack to laugh and Nicole to yelp with surprise.

"Put me down, Bradley!" Nicole demanded and Brad returned her to her feet. He hugged Jack, Tim, Harry and Hannah soon after.

"So, how were things here on the ranch while I was on an actual ranch?" Brad asked with a wide smile.

"Well, Stacy's pregnant and Gunny's the father." Jack started.

"We did get newspapers on the farm, Jack. I know that." Brad started moving with the family back toward the house. "I want juicy gossip stuff. Did Tim finally kiss Sasha? Have you got yourself a girl yet? Did dad wear a funny hat? Give me something funny."

"Well, Aunt Anna and Uncle Sergei went on their honeymoon to Antigua and Uncle Sergei fell asleep on the beach and got a pretty bad sunburn. He came back looking like a Maine lobster." Jack informed his brother who roared with laughter.

"Now, that's what I'm talking about." Brad and Jack headed into the residence with their siblings while the First Lady held her husband back.

"Well, he seems to have enjoyed himself." The President cheered until he saw his wife's expression. "Oh, hell. What did I do wrong now?"

"I just missed a whole two months of my son's life." She started. "Two months where he grew four inches and his now as tall as I am. Apparently, he's now also able to lift me off the ground. The kid looks like he's fifteen not twelve!"

"Yeah, but it worked. I mean look at the way he's acting, he's completely down to earth, he's mature and he's humble." The President pointed down the hall to the kids. "Although, his calf muscles look like he's been racing the horses on the farm." Nate laughed. "Nice to know things haven't changed in thirty-five years."

"Nate, this is a serious thing, I think he's growing up too fast." Nicole protested.

"I think he might just be growing too fast." Nate rubbed his eyes. "Listen, this isn't a thing, I'll just take the kid out on to the Truman balcony tonight and have a root beer with him and see if he still acts like he's twelve. And by the way, before you get pissed at me, you liked the idea too."

"I know, but our son comes back from a summer of farm work and he looks like he's been gone for three years. Seriously, no one is going to believe that kid is twelve." Nicole nodded down the hallway. "What do you guys do on the farm?"

"Bail hay, milk cows, build and rebuild the fence and work with a few of the horses. Normally, the young kids aren't given any of the really hard stuff beyond that." Nate answered. "You hate it for the first two weeks, but once you fall into the routine it's not so bad."

"You'll talk with him?" She asked.

"I will." He nodded, placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead.

1705 ZULU

CONGRESSIONAL COUNTRY CLUB

BETHESDA, MARYLAND

Harm addressed his ball on the fairway of the seventh hole. He hit the shot a bit fat and ended up in a bunker. "Damn!" He groaned under his breath. One of the great things about August was that the President and Congress all took off for a few days vacation. The other good thing was that he'd known the Secretary of Defence for so long that they could head out golfing for a few hours without causing a stir. "What's going on at work, A.J?"

"The President has tasked me with finding him a new ball carrier." Secretary Chegwidden lined up his own shot.

"_Another one!_" Harm laughed. "That's like the fifth one since Johnny Reb moved back into the fleet."

"Yeah, but the President tends to use them both as the ball carrier and as his personal aide, so the job's twice as tough and for young officers. I've gone through two Air Force Majors, an Army Major, a Marine Major and a Lieutenant Commander. I need someone that the President might actually like." A.J. shook his head and swung his eight iron.

"Why not just send Mikey Roberts over?" Harm inquired. "Mikey's promotion was just approved by the O-4 board and the President likes him."

"I'm guessing my brother-in-law still doesn't know about the wedding thing from back in June?" A.J. asked as the two men drove in the golf cart up to the green.

"Those of us who know decided it was against national interest to have the President charged with murdering a Naval officer." Harm remarked with a slight laugh. "It shouldn't be a problem anyway, the President's niece is heading off to college this week and Mikey wouldn't take over until next week."

"Well, this is all well and good Admiral but you're forgetting one very crucial thing." Secretary Chegwidden watched as Harm went to scrounge for his ball in the bunker.

"And what's that, sir?" Harm took a quick practice swing with his sand wedge.

"That he's an officer in the United States Navy and as such, his personal situation will rarely if ever impact on a duty station assignment he's given." A.J. watched Harm chip the ball on to the green. "I'm the Secretary of Defence, not his mommy."

"Yes, sir." Harm groaned again as he climbed out of the bunker.

"Besides, as much as I respect the President, it is kind of amusing to watch that vein in his neck threaten to explode." A.J. laughed as he lined up his putt. "How about things on your end? You seem to spend a lot of time at the White House."

"Yeah, I've been familiarizing myself with the Situation Room and Mike Bradley's staff. Which reminds me, Mike needs a new O-4 aide of his own, and I was thinking that the job should go to Major Ricker." Harm watched A.J.'s putt sail toward the hole, stopping a few inches to the left.

"A silver star winner, purple heart winner and DFC winner, he'd be a good fit. Puts him on the fast track to an O-5 billet in about eighteen months." A.J. watched Harm hole out with a seven foot putt. "You think they need a pilot on the NSC, I mean other than you and the Air Force Chief of Staff?"

"I think he's got intelligence experience and flying experience. He knows the President and most of the players in the Situation Room because he was the ball carrier. So, he can hit the ground running if a major thing happens right after he gets into his office. It's workable." Harm and A.J. walked back over to the cart. "It doesn't seem a little strange to you that we get more done on the golf course than we do working in the same Pentagon?"

"That's how it's worked in Washington for years." A.J. replied as he put his putter back in his golf bag. "Why do you think this place is named after Congress?"

"An excellent point, sir." Harm laughed as they made their way over to the eighth tee. They ran into the drink cart girl and waved her down to get some refreshments.

"So, you ready to send the kids back to school?" A.J. asked as he paid for this round.

"I think between me and Mac we should have them ready." Harm answered as he teed up his drive. "It's hard to believe my daughter's going into the sixth grade."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." A.J. humoured.

"Why is it that you and Mrs. Chegwidden decided against having Arleigh attend school with his cousins and Sasha?" Harm cracked open the beer.

"Just a convenience issue. School in Arlington was closer. Besides, Beverly wasn't exactly thrilled about the idea of sending him to a Catholic school, being as she's a Presbyterian minister and all." A.J. watched Harm set his beer down and drive his ball into the fairway. "Nice shot, Admiral."

"Thank you, Mr. Secretary." Harm responded and picked up his beer.

1843 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Sasha was met by Tim in the entrance way to the residence. She had planned to go with the boys and their mom to the Nationals game this afternoon. Over her protestations, she had eventually been forced to take Tommy along. Her brother was just too young to really be comfortable with her and her friends but he was also a little to old to really want to hang out with Harry Ross who was all of five. At the same time, Tommy idolized Brad Ross, or at least his athletic ability. Tim seemed a little cautious as they walked the hallways. A few seconds later a stampede of feet could be heard coming toward them. Sasha looked around and was caught unaware when she was suddenly lifted into the air and slung over the shoulder of a man.

"Hey, Sash." She heard the voice of Brad Ross boom from under her and she looked over her shoulder to see the back of his head.

"Brad, drop me now." She directed and he set her back on her feet. She gave her head a shake and looked up to see her eyes at level with the middle of his chest. She took quick stock of the new Brad Ross; the toned arms, the sun-baked complexion and longer shaggy hair. These were bad and dangerous thoughts to have.

"You okay, you seem a little wobbly." Brad asked.

"No, I'm fine." She squared herself away. "Everyone ready?"

"Nah, Lucy's not here yet." Brad answered, straightening up his shirt. He looked back to see that Jack, Harry, Jimmy Roberts and Tommy had tied Tim down to a chair with a gag in his mouth. "It's great to be home."

"Brad, I hate to be a bother, but has Lucy seen you since you've been home?" She asked tepidly.

"Nah, I just got in a few hours ago." Brad shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. At this moment, right now, Sasha felt an overwhelming and inexplicable hatred for Lucy Davis that passed very fast. She also suddenly felt an instant annoyance; once Lucy saw Brad the two of them were going to be unbearable all afternoon.

"Oh, Brad!" The delicate tidewater drawl called from the door and Brad called for her to come on in. She walked into the hall and saw the imposing figure standing there. He looked a little unfamiliar. He was taller, broader; not so that he looked very much older just like he'd been through one hell of a work out. "Hey fella." She coyly stood back from him.

"Hey." He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"You look…"She seemed really impressed, "you look good."

"Thanks." He gave her a thousand watt smile. "So do you."

"Yeah, but you." Her eyes traced his calf muscles, his arms, his shoulders. "How was the farm?"

"Tough." He nodded again. "Learned how to ride a horse, bail hay, milk a cow and barbecue a mean rack of ribs though."

"All valuable skills." She laughed. "Do farmers really get up at like six in the morning?"

"No." Brad shook his head. "It's more like five."

"And you did that all summer?" She looked very impressed. Brad ducked around the corner into his room for just a second. He came back out wearing Philadelphia Phillies jersey and cap. "You can't be thinking of wearing that. This is Washington, the Nationals are playing the Phillies today and you'll be booed out of the stadium."

"I grew up watching the Phillies in south-eastern Pennsylvania, you know. I've lived in the District a lot but I still consider PA my home." He lightly adjusted the brim of his cap. His mom came down the stairs behind them."

"Alright, let's go." She headed for the door with the kids following close behind her.

1924 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

"Sir, you've got the meeting with the officer Secretary Chegwidden sent over as your new ball carrier." The soft elder voice chimed through the intercom.

"Yes, thank you, Betty, send the officer in." The President looked up at the door at newly minted Lieutenant Commander Mikey Roberts walked into the Oval. This brought an instant smile to the President's face as he got out of his chair. "You're my new ball carrier?"

"Yes, sir." Mikey gave a nod.

"You know that means you'll be trusted with a briefcase containing the emergency plans to respond to a nuclear attack, right?" The President double-checked and motioned for Mikey to sit.

"Yes, sir." Mikey took a seat on the couch.

"And that you'll be expected to be in Class A uniform at all times while in the White House?" The President looked over the NSA briefing on his desk briefly.

"Yes, sir." Mikey answered again.

"I thought you liked being in the fleet, Commander?" The President questioned, now sitting behind the desk again.

"Well, sir, I wanted to try something a little different for a while. So, when the Secretary called me and told me I had an appointment with you today about this, I thought it was the right career path." Mikey answered, fiddling idly with his cover.

"See this, what we're doing right now? I need you to do just that on the job. I don't care if you talk to me about Penn State football or Annapolis football; though if Penn State loses to Annapolis you and I are going to have issues." The President joked and Mikey laughed hesitantly. "Talk to me about hockey, golf, baseball, football, movies, music, books and anything that isn't politics."

"Okay, but don't you have a personal aide that does that, sir?" Mikey asked, once again unsure of his footing with the President.

"Yeah, it's you but you don't get two paycheques for doing both jobs." The President mused once again. "Seriously, Mikey you're going to get to do a lot of fun stuff on this job. You get to travel on Air Force One, go into the Situation Room, have lunch with the President. Not to mention that in three years, when you're up for Commander, the football carrier and fit reps from the President look great on a resume."

"Yes, sir." Mikey answered again.

"You know, Mikey you can say something other than that, right?" The President got up from behind the desk. "I'm not going to take your head off at the shoulders if you speak."

"Yes, sir." Mikey nodded again and the President laughed. At that moment, Harm came rushing into the Oval Office, half out of breath with Gunny and the Secretary of Defence in his wake.

"Mr. President, sir, we have a problem in Columbia." Harm started to explain. "Two DEA agents, their State Department escorts and their translator were taken by the cartel early this morning."

"Alright, let's get into the Sit Room." The President headed for the door. "Come along, Lieutenant Commander, you're about to get some on-the-job training." The crowd moved through the West Wing toward the Situation Room. "What were State Department personnel doing in Columbia?"

"Political support and regime enforcement." Gunny answered for the President as they walked into the Sit Room.

"There isn't an election in Columbia to my knowledge. Why would they be on a political mission at the end of August in Columbia?" The President asked.

"They're there to prevent a coup, sir, it's getting near fall." The Assistant Secretary of State for Latin America answered.

"Why does the seasonal change matter?" The President inquired.

"The harvest is over, sir." The professional diplomat answered. "Once the labourers are done harvesting food for their families or harvesting coca for the cartel to make money and buy food for their families, that's when the highest instances of civil unrest occur."

"Idle hands are the devil's plaything." The President muttered. "What are we waiting on aside from a call from the President of Columbia?"

"Mr. President, you've got a call from the President of Columbia." Mikey Roberts was holding the phone for the President.

"Okay, now that we're not even waiting on that, what are we waiting on?" The President looked to his new JCS Chairman.

"Sir, there's a communiqué from Army intelligence which suggests that at least two of the Americans may have been killed in the ambush that led to the capture of the rest." Harm answered, his jaw set firm.

"Alright, here's how this works. We find out if anyone's dead and if anyone is, we find out how many. If no one's dead, we're talking a rescue operation. If not everyone's dead, it's still a rescue operation, but I'm hitting back at the cartel. If everyone's dead, then I'm really hitting back at the cartel." The President cracked his knuckles. "We all clear on that?"

"Yes, sir." The room chorused.

2344 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

GREAT FALLS, VIRGINIA

Sasha came into the house in a very contemplative mood. She had a brand new Washington Nationals hat on her head and a bit of a confused look on her face. She sat down on the couch next to her mom. "Mom, I think there's something wrong with me." She started hesitantly.

"What's up, Sash?" Mac edged closer to her daughter.

"Mom, is it okay or normal or whatever to find more than one boy attractive?" Sasha's confused look turned into sudden pleading for her mother's assent.

"Sash, over the course of your life, you're going to find a lot of guys attractive, it doesn't mean you like them, it could just be that they're good looking." Mac explained. "Why, what happened today?"

"Brad came back from the farm today and he's big." Sasha answered rather simply.

"What do you mean, like tall?" Mac inquired further.

"And wide." Sasha placed her hands about two feet apart to emphasize her point.

"Like fat?" Mac questioned.

"Like broad." Sasha answered. "And he's tanned and his hair's got that whole shaggy thing going on and he's not as annoying. I mean some things are still annoying, like how lovey he is with Lucy but on the whole he's not as annoying."

"What are you getting at, Sash?" Mac tried to focus her daughter.

"I think he's cute, and that's a problem because I like Tim and I should not think a guy's cute when I like one of his triplet brothers and have since third grade." Sasha argued.

"Sasha, this is not something to get upset about." Mac gave her daughter a comforting hug. "If he's cute, he's cute. So what?"

"It's a little more than that, mom." Sasha got up off the couch and started to pace. "I think I might be a little jealous."

"Of Lucy?" Mac leaned forward on the couch. Sasha hesitated for a second.

"Not really Lucy." Sasha shook her head a little. "More of the way her and Brad are together. I mean, I'm not stupid mom, I know that he's the son of the President and that cameras follow them in public; I've been their friend long enough to see that. But Brad doesn't care; he and Lucy were on the jumbo-tron at the baseball game and it didn't seem to matter to Brad that his arm was around her, he just smiled and pointed at the big screen in centerfield and the two of them waved."

"What does that have to do with you?" Mac asked.

"When the camera showed the rest of the booth, Tim moved away from me, not toward me. I don't understand, if he likes me, shouldn't he just tell me? Why does he at one way when he's just hanging out with me and another way if there are people?" She was frustrated and her voice began to rise.

"Because he's your friend, Sasha. It's weird for him too. It's weird for him to look at a beautiful girl, whom he's always had as a friend and now that you're all maturing, he starts seeing you differently. It doesn't matter if he's a triplet, all those boys are different and you know that." Mac calmly explained to her daughter. "Something Brad is comfortable with, Tim might not be. They're gonna have different strengths, different weaknesses, different likes and dislikes. I know what I'm talking about, these boys are like this at twelve, your dad was like this at thirty-two."

"So, what do I do? I mean, I'm his friend but I'm not sure that I only want to be his friend. He can be frustrating but the most frustrating part is that he doesn't talk to me about anything, he just stands around silent with his hands in his pockets." Sasha threw herself down on the couch again. "Any suggestions?"

"Be his friend." Mac offered. "It's really all you can do. You could tell him, but that doesn't really solve anything. You're not sure if he's ready, I don't even know that you're sure if you're ready. But you're growing up, and stuff like this is going to happen. I like that you didn't hesitate to talk to me about it." Mac took her daughter's hand. "You never have to hesitate to talk to me about it."

"Thanks, mom." Sasha gave her mom a big hug. "Just to be clear though, I'm normal and Tim's gun-shy?"

Mac laughed. "Sounds about right."

0014 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The President had a bottle of root beer in his one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. He had one son that was waiting out of the Truman balcony and he was headed there when he was intercepted by another son. "Hey dad, can we talk for a sec?" Tim motioned toward his room.

"Sure, son." Nate nodded. The two of the walked in. "What's up?"

"Dad, why didn't you send me to the farm with Brad for the summer?" Tim asked as his dad had a seat.

"Tim, I've never ever had a problem trying to keep you down to earth. You're a rare gift, you're the smart kid that doesn't feel the need to profess to the world that you're smart. Brad had a bit of a problem last year trying to deal with the fact that he was more talented than some kids at some sports." The President explained. "Your brother's a great kid, too. The farm just kind of gives you perspective; it was the same with me and my brothers. Besides, I didn't think you'd want to go."

"I wouldn't have, but I thought you'd ask." Tim responded. "I don't know, Dad, it just seems like when Brad's in the room, he takes up all the oxygen. The rest of us have a tough time breathing."

"Tim, you're all talented in different ways, you're all different personalities and you're all great kids." Nate tried to explain to his son. "You're all about to go through a really tough part of growing up because you're going to need each other but you're going to encounter different challenges. The difficulties of brothers are that we all feel a sense of competition, we try to measure ourselves by each other, and the only way you know how good you're doing is if you measure how far you came since yesterday." Nate gave his son a pat on the back. "Well, that and your mother and I will remind you how good you are as often as we can."

"Jack's the funny one, Brad's the jock and the cool one; there's not a lot of glory in being the smart one." Tim muttered.

"Tell me about it." Nate laughed. "I was the smart one, too. I was never very good at sports, that was your uncle Preston and your uncle Steve was the baby in the family for a long time so, he had that going for him. But look around you, son." Tim looked around the décor of the White House outside his door. "This is where being the smart one can lead you."

Tim nodded his head slowly. "Thanks, dad."

"Anytime, kiddo." The President replied and got off the bed. He headed back into the hallway and then eventually out on to the Truman balcony. Brad was sitting there waiting for him. Nate tossed him the root beer and then popped the cap off his own beer before taking a seat next to his son. "So, how was your summer, sport?"

"Interesting." Brad nodded slowly as he took a drink. "Hard."

"Yeah, the farm always is." Nate took a drink. "Have any fun?"

"A lot of tackle football games behind the church on Sundays." Brad answered. "And Uncle Carl taught me how to ride a horse which was kind of fun. I've never felt quite so helpless as I was those first few days, I mean bailing hay and stuff was hard. No to mention trying to rebuild that damn fence." There was a pause. "I can say damn, right?"

"I wouldn't say it in front of your mother, but it's okay in front of me." Nate assured his son. "How is that fence?"

"I'm sure it'll be good until I go back next summer." Brad answered.

"You want to go back?" Nate sounded surprised.

"Yeah, sometimes you gotta do the tough stuff to appreciate the easy stuff." Brad took another drink. "I kissed a girl up there, dad." Brad looked over and saw his dad take another drink. "Her name's Emily, she's the neighbour's daughter. I met her when I was helping Uncle Carl fix the fence out that way."

"Okay." The President nodded appreciatively.

"Did I do something wrong?" Brad asked, looking for some wisdom.

"No." Nate chuckled to himself. "You're young, you're supposed to do stuff like this, it's how you find out about life. You need to experience it to appreciate it."

"I know, but it felt good to spend time with her, you know, without cameras around." Brad started to ramble a little. "She'd come over to the farm and we'd hang out and talk about baseball or the movies or something. It was great to hang out in the hay loft with her."

That one caught the President's attention. That hay loft had been witness to many an NC-17 event when Nate and Preston had spent their summers on the farm with the local girls. "Sounds like you made a good friend."

"I'm not sure, she was the first girl I actually laid down next to and didn't feel completely uncomfortable and weirded out by." Brad quickly realized how he was increasing his father's concern. "Don't worry, we didn't do anything."

"I trust you, son." Nate nodded.

"It was really cool, dad. She didn't care that I was the son of the President or anything. Sometimes, it seems like that's all the kids at school care about." Brad looked down at his shoes. His dad gave him a pat on the back.

"Son, it is my wish that more people are like this Emily. You're a special kid, and the more people who get to know the real you, the better their lives will be and the more you'll be able to trust people." Nate told his son who turned and gave his dad a big hug.

"Thanks, dad." Brad told his dad. "I'm gonna head back into the house and call some of the guys from school."

"Sure." Nate nodded. He stood out on the Truman balcony for a few seconds longer, watching the sunset over D.C. He slowly sipped away at his beer. The doors opened behind him and he turned to face his new guests. He saw Gunny standing there with Harm. "Oh good Lord, what happened now."

"Sir, Army intelligence can confirm the death of at least one DEA agent. Also, our embassy in Bogotá got a message from the Cartel. They want us to convince the Columbian President to release six cartel operatives from Columbian prisons." Harm explained quickly.

"You've got Special Ops working on a rescue plan for the Army Rangers out of COMBCARIB?" The President asked.

"Yes, sir." Harm nodded.

"Good. What about you, Gunny?" The President turned to his Chief of Staff.

"Sir, the AP wire is reporting that a plane went down over Iowa this afternoon carrying the Chief Justice and Justice Sutton. The two men were coming back from a golf vacation they'd taken with their families to Pebble Beach. The pilot is dead, so are the justices, the co-pilot is in a coma at Jefferson County Hospital. Their families are still in California, sir. Should I arrange a call between you and their wives?" Gunny asked.

"Yes." The President said in a shallow whisper. "Get on that, Gunny."

"Yes, sir." Gunny headed back into the White House.


	72. A Human Business

"_To sin is __**a human business**__; to justify sins is a devilish business." – Leo Tolstoy_

_Guest Starring: Dennis Haysbert as Attorney General Bill Jenkins_

_ George Wendt as White House Counsel Thad Brown_

_David Hyde Pierce as Judge Daniel Robitoff _

The President stood in the Situation Room looking at the map of Columbia up on the big board. "We're sure they're holding them at the compound?" The President looked to the CIA Director.

"As sure as we can be." Clayton Webb answered.

"I need you to be sure, Clayton. Because if I go on 'as sure as we can be' I'm risking the lives of the hostages, I'm risking the lives of U.S. Army Rangers and anyone else who might be caught in the middle on the ground. I need you to tell me you've got it. Do you have it?" The President stood grim-faced and his gaze bore down on the CIA Director.

"No, sir." Clayton shook his head reluctantly.

The President stopped leaning on the table. "I'll give you forty minutes, Clayton. See if you can get it for me in that time."

"Yes, sir." The CIA Director nodded and got up from the table. The President turned to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

"Admiral, what are my retaliatory options?" The President crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Well, sir. Satellite imaging has given us a pretty good view of the compound. The most vulnerable spot is right here, it's a propane tank attached to the heating system." Harm indicated the highlighted part of the photograph on the screen. "A grenade would blow up the tank, the house and all fifty of the cartel's bodyguards headquartered therein."

"It would also kill any members of Del Fuente's family, Mr. President." The Secretary of State interjected. Everyone in the room turned their eyes on the President.

"My uncle Woody used to be cop with the New York City Police Department. He once told me that there were some neighbourhoods, back in the day, that you just didn't go into because if you did, the mob wouldn't just come after you, they'd come after your family. Now, that may be true, or it may be that my uncle was trying to scare me but if he was right, than we're in some rather interesting company with this little stunt." The President answered. "They normally take them to some neutral site, don't they? To keep us away from the main compound?"

"Yes, sir." The Assistant Secretary of State for Latin America answered.

"Why didn't they do that this time?" The President asked.

"Our presence in the region forced the government of Columbia to crack down on roads, sir." The diplomat replied. "This was likely the only option they had."

"Alright, Admiral Rabb, you have the order to blow the tank when the team is sent in to rescue the hostages." The President gave the order and had the sudden urge to throw himself down in a chair. The President had spoken with the widows of the two Supreme Court Justices earlier in the night and the White House had been unable as of yet to reach the widow of the murdered DEA agent. This was going to be a long night.

The President walked out of the Situation Room only to be greeted by Charlie Scott wearing a Yale sweater and a pair of sunglasses. "Mr. President, I've been getting calls from every conservative Senator and Congressman in the Congress threatening to filibuster your judicial nominees if they aren't a compromise."

"Are any of them our guys?" The President asked.

"No, right now we're holding the 255-180 margin in the House and the 62-38 advantage in the Senate. But judicial nominees are tricky and margins close quick in those confirmation hearings, especially when it comes to the Chief. I think we lose Bennett and Knowles because their constituencies are too conservative. Lamoureaux is up for re-election at the midterms and won't want this hanging around his neck." Charlie answered as they headed for the Oval. "On the plus side, I think we get Micholias, Hewson, Coles and Joyce from the Republicans."

"You think we get Micholias, Hewson, Coles and _Joyce_?" The President stated incredulously.

"Micholias is from New Hampshire, he's got a more moderate district than he did when he was first elected, he skidded through last November with a much smaller margin than he'd been hoping for. Coles isn't running again in Virginia, even if he was, Northern Virginia is getting more moderate and Democratic by the day, he'd vote for it but stick us on something else. Joyce is a young Senator, he's going to want to run for President some day and the last thing he would need is a problem with moderate Democrats and independents. He'll have problems with urban voters in Phoenix and Phoenix is only getting bigger; same with Glendale." Charlie took a breath. "Hewson's tricky."

"Tricky? He's the most socially liberal Republican in the damn Senate, he has to be, he represents Minnesota." The President answered.

"Yeah, but he's running for President in three years." Charlie noticed the President stopped walking. "He's raised two million dollars so far this year; you don't raise that kind of money from your contributors unless you're giving them the inside track on something."

"You're thinking he sticks us on the nominees because he can defend it against Iowa Republicans in three years?" The President asked his top political advisor.

"Iowa's the ballgame for Republicans in three years. If Hewson's in, he wins New Hampshire because they like his moderate views in New Hampshire and because Micholias is best buddy in the Senate. If he takes Iowa too, that's it, he's got the GOP nomination." Charlie answered. "Any ideas on nominees yet?"

"No, but get the A.G. in my office along with the White House Counsel and by the end of business this week, I want a list of nine possible nominees for vetting, understood?" The President asked.

"Yes, sir." Charlie nodded and headed for his office.

"Mr. President." Harm walked up behind the President and tapped him on the shoulder. "Webb says he's got it, sir. Two reliable sources including the Bogotá station chief and Army Intelligence."

"They're being held at the compound?" The President double checked.

"Yes, sir." Harm nodded in the affirmative.

"Alright, Admiral, it is so ordered." The President told his chief military advisor as they headed back to the Situation Room. "And God have mercy."

"Amen, sir." Harm added.

4 DAYS LATER

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

"That was an excellent service." The President pronounced as they walked into the Oval Office. "It's been a weird week, we brought the hostages home from Columbia but we lost one of them and we lost two Supreme Court Justices. Man, it's been a weird week."

"Sir, you've got a meeting with the A.G. and White House Counsel." Gunny pointed out. "Should I have Charlie sit in on this one, sir?"

"Yeah, that's probably a wise idea." The President nodded. "Charlie gave me the list earlier today; it's going to give the Republicans a coronary if we leak it to the press. I swear, he intentionally picked jurists that are gonna pull a Hugo Black or Bill Douglas and sit on the bench for forty years."

"Who's on the list?" Gunny asked.

"We'll get to that in a second." The President answered as the door opened. The Attorney General stepped through it along with the White House Counsel. "Thad, Bill, good to see you."

"And you as well, Mr. President." Attorney General Bill Jenkins answered in his deep voice. "What can I do for you today, sir?"

"I had Charlie Scott compile a short list for me of names to fill the vacancies on the Court." The President handed a copy of the list to both the White House Counsel and the A.G. "What do you think?"

"I think it's a great list." Thad Brown answered. "You've got a bunch of great jurists here, Mr. President."

"I think the Republicans on the Senate Judiciary committee are going to throw a fit." The Attorney General answered. "No one on this list is older than fifty, and very few of them have any characteristics that any Republican is going to find appealing. Senators Wiebe and Unger will hang these confirmations up like cattle rustlers in Tombstone."

"I'm a popular second term President before the midterms; I think we can go to the mat on these." The President pointed to the list.

"The Republicans aren't going to let you sit two liberals next to Rabb, Hearn and Meyer on the court, not since their guys on the court are the next most likely retire because they're like eighty." The A.G. argued. "Who were you thinking of nominating, sir?"

"I was thinking Daniel Robitoff for the Chief and Colin Murphy as an Associate Justice." The President answered. The White House Counsel looked impressed; the Attorney General just shook his head.

"You put Daniel Robitoff in front of the Republicans on the Senate committee and they'll kill him. They can't let him be confirmed as the Chief Justice of the United States, their base will blow a gasket. He's got what could generously be described as a _wide_ definition of what constitutes free speech; he's pro-choice, he's against Capital Punishment and what's more important to them is that he has yet to be overturned." The Attorney General folded his hands in his lap.

"I think they give you Murphy on spec for an Associate though, Mr. President. Especially if you wave Robitoff in front of them." Thad Brown explained. "Murphy's more moderate; it's a seat, but a seat that Sutton left empty, so it's just replacing one liberal with another for them."

"I've got to at least wave Robitoff in front of them." The President thought aloud as Charlie Scott entered the room.

"Sir, a few names on the list leaked, some idiot researcher on my staff was probably trying to make points with the Times and it's on their website right now." Charlie explained.

"What names leaked?" The President asked.

"Well, the big one is Robitoff." Charlie answered. "It leaked twenty minutes ago and in that time I've had fourteen Senators call my office asking me what the hell we're thinking."

"Always a good sign." The President rolled his eyes. "Get Judge Robitoff in my office by this evening, okay Charlie?"

"Yes, sir." Charlie nodded. "And for the other seat?"

"Well, I liked Murphy when he ran on the ticket nine years ago when I was running for Governor and he's done a fantastic job on the Pennsylvania Supreme Court. Let's give him a boost up." The President replied and rose to his feet. "Any objections to Murphy?"

"No, I think you get Murphy, sir." The Attorney General answered. "I think the Republicans give you Murphy so that they can march into the Senate Briefing Room and rationalize to the media why they denied you Robitoff. You're talking about a committee with Wiebe, Unger and Hayes on it. It doesn't matter if they have to deal with our Liberal Lions; they're going to make this thing as drawn out and bloody as they possibly can."

"So, let's swing back." The President advised.

1622 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Gunny sat in his office overlooking a few statements from HHS appropriations and rubbing his eyes. The door opened and Charlie ducked inside. "You know you've got Cal Hewson standing around in your outer office, right?" Charlie asked as he took a seat.

"Yeah, I'm letting the Senator stew for a few minutes." Gunny didn't even look up from the papers. "Did you call Robitoff?"

"I did." Charlie nodded. "He's getting on the next plane to Dulles; he'll be here by dinnertime. He can eat with the President, right?"

"That's what the President's expecting." Gunny finally addressed Charlie eye to eye. "I have gotten thirty-seven calls in the last eighty minutes from Republican Senators who want to go completely insane and march into the Oval Office. Joyce and Micholias are pissed off because they can't vote against the nomination as much as they want to because of how qualified he is."

"And Hewson?" Charlie nodded toward the door.

"Yeah, we can probably let him in." Gunny chuckled. Charlie walked over, opened the door and motioned for the Senator who joined them. Gunny stood to greet the legislator. "Cal." Gunny nodded.

"Victor." The Senator shook Gunny's hand. "The President cannot nominate Daniel Robitoff to the Supreme Court."

"That list is one giant hypothetical, Cal." Gunny retook his seat. "All the same, why can't the President nominate whomever he wants to the bench?"

"Because my GOP Senate colleagues will go out of their minds, those that haven't already. Hell, Vic, you and I have probably been on the phone all damn morning trying to put out the fire of that short list." Cal Hewson folded his hands in his lap. "I was able to build a consensus around a list of seven names." Senator Hewson reached across the desk and handed the list of names to Gunny.

"These are the seven justices left on the court." Gunny observed quickly. "I can say for damn sure that the President isn't going to nominate Lazio, DiLorenti or Thompson to be Chief; and Finnerty's too old."

"That still leaves Meyer, Hearn and Rabb." Hewson pointed out. "All more liberal than the Republican caucus would like but they've already confirmed them once and you don't want to waste political capital fighting over who's going to be Chief."

"The President gets to set the direction of the Court." Charlie pointed out and Senator Hewson replied over his shoulder to the man standing behind him.

"The President is considering nominating a judge to the Supreme Court that overturned a parental consent law, overturned a death penalty sentence and upheld the constitutionality of a handgun ban. That would be bad enough, for most people without the fact that the President's considering making him Chief." Hewson argued. "Now, I'm going to be a nice guy and give you guys a way out. If you nominate Robitoff, if you go to the wall on this one, it won't matter if you win. Taggart was talking about attaching the Global Gag Rule to anything that moves through his budget subcommittee on the next round. After Robitoff, you guys and the Democrats on the Hill won't have the political capital to fight it."

Gunny subtly leaned on the intercom button to create an open microphone and the channel was opened between his office and the President's. "What was that, Cal?"

"I said, if you nominate Robitoff and win, you'll be so depleted Taggart will hit you guys with the Gag Rule on everything that comes through his budget subcommittee and you guys won't have the political capital to fight it." Hewson leaned forward.

"I disagree, Cal." The President barged into the office. "Because I'll have a Democratic Congressman stick another addendum on that bill that cuts funding to any program teaching abstinence only. Because I've got three medical studies lined up that say that it doesn't decrease instances of teenage sex, just vaginal intercourse. It actually increases instances of anal and oral sex. How do you think those suburban parents are going to react when my Surgeon General and HHS Secretary go out there and attach the GOP's policy to increases of those sexual acts?" The President crossed his arms in front of his chest and presented a magnificently tough profile. "You tell Willie Taggart two things: First, the President sets the direction of the Court regardless of the opinion of the Junior Senator from Oklahoma and two, _I_ am the President of the United States."

"Yes, sir." The Senator nodded.

"Good." The President nodded. "Now, that having been said. Cal, you're a high ranking member of the minority on Judiciary and as such, we'd be glad to have your advice on who to nominate so that we can work with the Senate to assure a smooth confirmation."

"Any of the seven justices currently on the Court." Hewson answered. "The Republicans aren't going to be thrilled about you nominating Rabb, Hearn or Meyer but we accept that _you're_ the President and _we're_ in the minority in the Senate. We also have to accept that you'd get Robitoff if you pushed for him and that would _really_ piss off our base so any compromise is a victory on this one for us."

"Thanks, Cal." The President shook his hand.

"Thank you, Mr. President." The Senator shook his hand and the President headed into the Oval Office.

1808 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Mikey Roberts was trying to familiarize himself with the West Wing. He'd spoken with Morley, Kat, Stacy and Charlie so far in an attempt to get on friendly terms with people he'd soon be interacting with on a daily basis. Of course, he already knew Gunny and he'd already met with the President. Right now, he was on his way down to the White House kitchens for lunch. He heard the click of the door opening nearby and was suddenly pulled into a room. He was pushed up against the wall and though it took him a second, he eventually caught her scent and relished in the feel of her lips being pressed against his.

After the kiss, he managed to compose himself. "Are you insane? We can't do that in the White House!" Mikey tried to keep his voice down so as not to be overheard by anyone out in the hallway.

"Loosen up, Mikey. We've already had sex in the White House once, remember?" She taunted him flirtatiously.

"Yeah, but that was the residence and we had the fortuitous distraction of a wedding reception and open bar right downstairs. Right now, the White House is operating in the middle of a pretty hectic day. The senior staff is still trying to deal with the political ramifications of the rescue in Columbia and they're fighting with Congress over Supreme Court nominations, we're more likely to get caught." Mikey argued, trying to catch his breath.

"And you think that's _less_ distracting than a wedding reception and an open bar?" She replied, still pressed against his chest.

"I'm also working, I've got to get used to my new duties as your dad's ball carrier and as such, I've got to familiarize myself with the White House." He shook his head and tried to move away from her.

"That's not what this is about." She backed off and assumed a defensive pose. "What's wrong?"

"You're leaving tomorrow." He stated plainly.

"So what? You knew that." She answered. "I'm pretty sure I told you."

"Yeah, and when you said this was just going to be a summer thing, I thought you were just being cute." He rebutted. "I didn't think you were actually going to cut everything off and head for Boston at the end of the summer."

"See, this is exactly what I was worried about!" She groaned. "I figured you were a nice guy, you weren't too heavy emotionally and we could have a fun summer. But you decide on the last day to go all primetime soap opera on me."

"I didn't expect to have three pretty good months with someone only to find out that it really didn't mean anything to them." Mikey headed for the door. "You're a good person, which is I guess why this is so hard to understand."

"I'm eighteen." She rebutted. "I wasn't looking for a long term commitment going into this and I told you that going in. I'm young, we both are, now's our time to live life. Maybe you want a long term commitment, that's great, more power to you. That's not where I am right now. I was honest with you, Mikey." He shook his head. Damn it, Harriet was right. "How exactly did you expect to keep this relationship up with me in Boston and you in D.C. anyway?"

"I figured I could call you." He started somewhat hesitantly.

"White House logs all phone calls for security purposes; you really think the Secret Service isn't going to flag the President's ball carrier calling the President's daughter?" She questioned.

"I get leave time, I could have always flown up and seen you." He put a hand on her shoulder.

"A sweet idea, but once again you forget the Secret Service. It'll filter back to my dad eventually. You also forget that because I'm the President's daughter, I tend to attract press attention. You really want the headline of the Boston Globe one morning to be about how a thirty-two year old Navy Lieutenant Commander is dating the daughter of the President. That's a media storm that I don't want, you don't want and no one in the White House sure as hell wants." She argued. "So, tell me, just how this works beyond today?"

He was stymied. He wanted to talk, he wanted to say something but nothing would come to his mind and nothing wanted to come from his lips. He wanted to kiss her for being beautiful. He wanted to hate her for being shallow. He wanted so much for her to be more then eighteen but it was an age gap that was now translating into a maturity gap, into a wisdom gap and into a space between them that looked almost insurmountable. "So, this is it, huh?" He asked.

"Yeah." She nodded. "There could always be next summer." She toyed lightly.

"No there can't." He closed off. "I need to move on, I need to be with someone my own age, who's looking for the same things that I am and you need the same thing. We need to back away from each other and not look back. If we run head on into this thing again next summer, there's no telling how much damage we could do."

"You just want to back away?" She asked. "You don't want to have a little fun before?" She winked at him and it sent his mind reeling. He looked her over. Her olive skin, her long toned legs, her fantastic hips and perky breasts. His eyes met hers and he brushed a strand of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"The best way to do this is to just make a clean break." He mustered up all the fortitude he could. "The summer was fun, at least."

"But, it was entirely too short." She told him. He ducked out of the room and she stood there shaking her head for a second.

2233 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Daniel Robitoff had been the District Attorney for San Francisco County before becoming a Judge on the Ninth Circuit Court and presiding over the Northern California District. Now, he was about to enter a dinner meeting with the President and his Chief of Staff. "What did you think of Hewson this morning?" The President asked.

"Impressive, it's two and a quarter years from the New Hampshire Primary and he's already speaking for large portions of the Republican Party." Gunny laughed. "Hewson's powerful, he's on Judiciary, Budget and the Select Intelligence Committee. He's got a lot of pull with the Republicans and if he says he can guarantee passage of Rabb, Hearn or Meyer, then we've got 80 votes on the Senate floor."

"I would love to put Robitoff in the big chair, it'd be like the Warren Court all over again, except, we'd probably get thirty years out of Robitoff instead of the fifteen that Eisenhower got out of Warren." The President paced. "What do you think?"

"I think Hewson has a point. If we put up Robitoff, this is a six week fight on the Hill, it eats up news-cycle after news-cycle and we lose Lamoureaux, Bennett, Knowles, Cleary and probably Ryan if we push on Robitoff. That means we get a Chief Justice who's confirmed 57-43 instead of 82-18. Hewson says if we compromise on the Chief, we get Murphy with 80+ votes out of the Senate. That just leaves us with one vacancy, someone would have to fill the empty seat left by elevating Meyer, Rabb or Hearn." Gunny answered. "It may be worth it to consider nominating one of the existing Justices, sir."

"Gunny, I'm about to become the first Democratic President since Harry Truman to nominate a Chief Justice to the United States Supreme Court. I want to make it count." The President answered.

"I know you do, sir." Gunny started. "And I know a man with your sense of history has a very profound understanding of how big this appointment is, but think about that, sir. You could appoint the first woman to ever hold the post of Chief Justice of the United States. Justice Rabb is five years younger than Judge Robitoff and women have a longer life expectancy anyway, so she's likely to serve longer."

"Is there anyway that I can nominate Justice Rabb to the post without it looking like favouritism, especially considering that her husband is my chief military advisor?" The President turned to his Chief of Staff.

"We leak that it's a compromise, that Hewson was the one who suggested her." Gunny started. "We've got call logs from half a dozen Republican Senators telling us the same thing; we leak it to the Times, the Post or the Journal and let them run with it. Have Kat do it on deep background, tell them they can say 'Senior White House Sources'."

"You think that works?" The President asked.

"Yeah, I do. If we put the media in the game now, than we make the compromise the story instead of the nominee. Our guys will hate it because it looks like the Republicans are trying to appease women's groups; the Republicans will like it because it'll help them appease women's groups; it addresses the favouritism issue and the story for the next three days is how we nominated the first woman in history to become the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court." Gunny explained.

"Stacy's really been rubbing off on you, huh?" The President humoured.

"Little bit, sir." Gunny nodded with a laugh of his own.

"Mr. President, Judge Robitoff to see you, sir." Betty Clarkson's elderly voice came through the intercom.

"Thank you, Betty." The President answered. The door to the Oval opened and the shorter, thin form of Dan Robitoff walked into the Oval Office. "Dan, nice to see you."

"And you, Mr. President." Robitoff shook the President's hand. "It was a real loss to hear about Justice Sutton and the Chief."

"You can cut the pleasantries, Dan; I'm not enough of a fool to think you don't read the New York Times website." The President replied.

"All the same, Mr. President, it's a shame. Even if only because the Chief was the only person on the bench capable of keeping the reins on Lazio and Thompson." Dan Robitoff answered.

"You think it's important that the Chief can keep reins on those two?" The President questioned.

"Decisions from the Court always seem a little less divisive when they aren't splits." Robitoff settled into a chair. "Whoever takes over for the Chief is going to have to have a more inclusive judicial philosophy."

"Do you think that's you?" The President got right to the heart of the matter.

"I think I could learn to do it, Mr. President. But I don't make any pretence that Lazio or Thompson are ever going to agree with me. I might be able to reach out to Finnerty and DiLorenti from time to time and come down with some 7-2 decisions but I don't see my own talents ever rendering unanimous decision from the court." Judge Robitoff answered honestly.

"Anyone you know that impresses you for the job?" The President inquired.

"It's all on what you're looking for, sir." Dan Robitoff responded somewhat cryptically. "If you want to get the most out of a lifetime appointment, there are a lot of good choices but they'll cost you some allies in Congress. If you want a smooth confirmation, you can always promote from within. I think the best bang for your buck is Justice Rabb. She's smart, she's the ideological twin of Hearn and Meyer so, there's your cover with the Left; she's close to Finnerty, which means more 6-3 decisions. She's well respected and easily confirmable."

"That's what Gunny was just saying." The President shook his head. "If I nominate her, there's a good chance we could push you through to fill her seat as an Associate Justice."

"Yes, sir." Dan Robitoff replied.

"Alright, Gunny." The President exhaled heavily. "Get Justice Rabb over here."


	73. What Comes Out of a Courtroom

"_Justice has nothing to do with what goes on in a courtroom; Justice is __**what comes out of a courtroom"**_ – _Clarence Darrow_

The Roosevelt room was crowded. There were twp judicial nominees and the entire White House senior staff gathered inside along with the First Lady. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is going to be a very short meeting to begin what will be a very long process. It is September 3rd today; the Supreme Court convenes during the first week of October, starting October 6th. The Senate Judiciary Committee has graciously agree to confirmation hearings and votes for every candidate in this room before the convening of the Court. So, each nominee has a senior staff point person assigned to them that will quarterback their nomination. Judge Murphy, you'll have Katherine O'Leary our Deputy Communications Director and Justice Rabb, you'll have the First Lady." Gunny took a breath. "I don't care how you get your nominee confirmed. I don't care how many arms you twist on the committee and in the Senate, we need to get these people confirmed into their new jobs."

"What about the third vacancy?" Charlie questioned.

"The President wants you to find us another nominee, Charlie." Gunny answered. "That'll be all for today, everyone, get to work." The meeting broke and everyone went their separate ways. Charlie chased after Gunny.

"The President wants _me_ to find another nominee? What was wrong with Robitoff?" Charlie asked as they headed for the bullpen.

"Robitoff's too much of a fight for us, which sucks to say but we've got two and a half years of a political agenda left and to spend it nominating a Supreme Court Justice is a sacrifice no sane politician would make. I think you try the First Circuit; it's where we've made the most appointments. We basically need a Robitoff with a smaller press profile." Gunny stood with his back against the door to his office.

"We nominated a guy to the First Circuit back in the first year; he was a Yale Law Professor, I can't quite remember his last name, it was something weird and it started with O." Charlie shook his head slightly.

"O? Thanks Charlie, it's Boston for God's sake, be more specific." Gunny questioned.

"Yeah, it was O-something." Charlie was trying to remember. "O'Shea, that's right! We put Bobby O'Shea on the First Circuit. He was pretty close to where Judge Murphy is on a lot of issues and he's not as ragingly leftist as Justice Robitoff which should help with the Republicans."

"Yeah, hammering on Robitoff for the last week softened up the ground with the GOP, I think they'd give us Murphy and O'Shea just so they didn't have to replay the Robitoff ordeal. They like Justice Rabb, which is good. They like Judge Murphy, which is very good. Let's get Judge O'Shea in here this afternoon; he should be able to catch the shuttle from Logan to Dulles today, right?" Gunny asked.

"Providing that he's not presiding over arguments in a case, yeah." Charlie nodded.

"Get him in here then." Gunny instructed. "I've got a meeting with the DCCC this morning on the midterms next year, they say we're going to be defending as many at twenty tough House districts, you believe that?"

"We're lucky if it's only twenty." Charlie retorted. "By my count, we've got nine retiring Democrats, 12 currently in the House who won by less than 2,000 votes and another four won by less that 2,500. It's gonna be a long campaign. Add to that, the fact that the Ross Democrats, the Freshmen Senators who rode in on the wave six years ago are up next year. That means Lamoureaux in Louisiana, McIntyre in Illinois, Laird in North Dakota and Cleary in North Carolina are all up and they're all in vulnerable states."

"McIntyre's safe, latest polling give him a fourteen point lead over any Republican." Gunny assured his Deputy. "Cleary and Lamoureaux are going to be in dogfights though. But you're missing one; I think we're gonna lose Tureski in New Hampshire. We couldn't defeat Micholias in the Presidential cycle; I think that's a sign of things to come."

"You think we lose New Hampshire?" Charlie questioned.

"I think Tureski's support is a mile wide and an inch deep. She got in five years ago because she was a Democrat and any Democrat in a competitive race got elected five years ago. Now, it's five years on, she's got no real legislative record and she's starting to look like an empty suit." Gunny responded with a slight nod. "Keep an eye on it."

"I'll do that." Charlie affirmed with a wise look. "I'll do that."

2040 ZULU

ST.GREGORY'S

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The Football field at St. Greg's was a hundred and fifty yard strip of grass surrounded on all sides by concrete track and aluminium bleachers. It was the first day of football tryouts for the grade sixes, sevens and eights and Coach Ralston was interested in adding some offensive firepower to what had been a pretty steady defence from last year. He had a quarterback that was returning from last year and a couple of second string wide-outs but he didn't have a tight-end and he didn't have any jack rabbits coming out of the backfield.

On the sidelines sat Sasha Rabb and Lucy Davis. Sasha had come to find that she could handle Lucy and even liked her in small doses but she was mostly here to support Tim as he joined his brothers in going out for the team. Jack was the first one out on the field; because of his height, the pads didn't look quite as awkward on him as they did on some of the other boys. Tim was the next one out on to the field, and he looked a little ridiculous. His pads were obviously a little too big and they appeared to be weighing him down so his jog looked more like a stunted trot.

"Wait for it." Lucy whispered to Sasha and a few seconds later Brad came jogging out of the dressing room. His pads fit over his shoulders really well and the gold and blue of his jersey lined up just like his was supposed to. He had the face mask of the helmet clutched in the fingers of his right hand as he jogged. His hair swayed a little from side to side as he headed over to the coach. "God, he's gorgeous." Lucy stated slightly under her breath.

"Easy, girl." Sasha replied caustically.

"Come on, Sash, it's not exactly a crime to think a boy's cute." Lucy goaded.

"He's your boyfriend, Lucy." Sasha answered. "I think it's good for you if I don't think he's cute." For the first half hour of practice, the boys ran sprints and went through agility and tackling drills before lining up to run plays.

"Ross!" The Coach shouted. "You're a pitcher, right?"

"Yeah, coach." Brad nodded enthusiastically.

"Alright, you're going to take the snap on this one." The Coach sent him on to the line behind the center. It was practice, so there was no play; he was just going to look for the open man. Brad positioned his hands for the snap and the center hiked the ball. Brad stepped back into the pocket and with all the force he could muster, he threw the ball. It went up in the air, floundered around, and fell about twelve yards later. Jack tried hard to restrain his laughter. "Okay, so you're not a quarterback." Coach affirmed and directed Brad away from his place behind the offensive line.

"That was one weak ass throw, bro." Jack gave him a pat on the back. "The baseball team better hope you don't pitch like that come spring."

"It's a little different than pitching, Jack." Brad shook his head.

"Ross!" The Coach shouted.

"Which one, coach?" Jack called over.

"All of you!" The Coach yelled. "Line up on the right side, you're gonna run a post route with coverage." The boys walked over to the right side of the offensive line and lined up. Brad felt Tim tap him on the shoulder.

"What the hell's a post route with coverage, Brad?" Tim asked in a whisper.

"Tim, just run as fast as you can to the centre of the field because you're going to be covered by a cornerback." Brad looked over his shoulder at his brother. The Coach blew his whistle and Brad took off like the Roadrunner in a Bugs Bunny cartoon. The cornerback was a tall and fast eighth grader that stuck to him like white on rice. After a few seconds passed, the quarterback rifled a throw about thirty yards down field. Brad and the cornerback both went up for the ball. Brad had his arm completely extended and the tips of his fingers were just enough to knock the ball down toward his chest and into the waiting clutch of his left arm. Both boys came down hard with Brad sliding across the grass.

"Good catch, Ross!" The Coach called. "Now get back in line." Brad jogged back to the line, catching his breath. The Coach ran a few more passes before calling a break to work on the run. He called Jack and Tim over to try them out at halfback, and Jack also got a chance to block as the tight end. Brad ran over to the bleachers to speak with Sasha when he saw that Lucy had left.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" He asked her and she walked down the bleachers to be eye to eye with him. "I need you to help me with my grades this year. Not that it's not great being a C+ student, but it won't matter in my house if I pull off three state championships, I need to get up to a B. So, what do you say?"

She had to admit that there were times when a small part of her actually found Bradley Ross cute, times like this when he was dropping the macho stuff and being vulnerable, she almost saw what the other girls saw. She sported a very caring smile and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder-pads. "I think you're smart, I think that if you put as much work into being a star student as you did into being a star athlete, you'd be an A student. I think, as your friend, I would be a traitor if I didn't help you." She gave him a quick hug. "Now, go and try to make the team, okay?"

All the while, Tim had been watching the interaction and feeling the ire rise in his gut. "Ross!" The Coach shouted. "You and your brother are going to run another post pattern. Tim, you're on coverage!" Coach blew his whistle. The two sides lined up for the snap and once the quarterback had the ball, Brad was over the line of scrimmage in a flash. Tim had to go all out to try and keep up with him and Brad still had about two strides on him. The pass came soaring down into Brad's hands about thirty yards from the line. Brad held the ball for a few seconds and Tim ran him, taking him to the ground with a late hit.

"Whoa! Late hit, Ross!" The Coach walked over and crowd of players gathered. Brad pushed his brother off him and got to his feet.

"Tim, what the hell is your problem?!" Brad demanded.

"You!" Tim charged. "You're my problem because you're never satisfied with what you got; you gotta crowd out everyone else." Tim put his hands on his brother's chest and gave him a hard push.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Brad brushed off the push but Tim went at him again, this time pulling of his helmet and cold-cocking him on the jaw. Brad reeled back and rubbed his jaw. Jack stepped in between them.

"Tim, you're gonna wanna run." Jack advised.

"I'm not afraid of him." Tim answered.

"That doesn't change the fact that he'll beat you to a pulp." Jack retorted. Brad walked toward him and moved around Jack. He towered over Tim and got in his face.

"You wanna handle this like a man, take off the helmet." Brad challenged. Tim reached up and pulled off his helmet. That was a mistake. Brad lurched up and cracked him with an uppercut to his chin, knocking Tim flat on his back. Now, the Secret Service got involved to keep the boys apart.

2212 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The President was just returning to the Oval from his latest cabinet meeting. It was amusing how, over the last five years, the President had gotten remarkably good at reading the twenty people in that room. There were exceptions, of course. Vice President Turner was a new addition, but his integrity and honour made him a stable voice of reason and rationality. The Secretary of Commerce was rarely around long enough to make an impression, as the administration was on its third in five years.

The President re-entered the Oval office to find his wife sitting with Mac going through vetting for her next appearance in front of the Senate Judiciary Committee. "You don't find it a little grandiose that you have an office of your own but you're holding a meeting in this one, honey?" The President tossed a brief from the HUD Secretary down on the resolute desk.

"Considering I'm in here to vet the next Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court, I figured my penchant for grandiosity would be forgiven." She smiled at him cutely. "Besides, she's the first sacrificial lamb we're putting up on front of the committee; you could at least let us be comfortable while I prep her."

"Betty let you in, didn't she?" The President crossed his arms.

"She did." The First Lady nodded and the door opened again. The tall form of Admiral Harmon Rabb walked in. "Evening, Harm."

"Madam First Lady, Mr. President, honey." Harm greeted the people in the room.

"Sweetie." The President greeted jokingly and Harm laughed and shook his head. "You two wanna join us up in the residence for dinner?"

"Yes, thank you, Mr. President." The two of them nodded simultaneously.

"Alright, Gunny and Stacy are going to meet us up there after he's done trying to get Judge O'Shea in here for tomorrow morning. Apparently the judge was hearing arguments today and couldn't make it in." The President gathered up materials for his briefcase. "And she's in a meeting with Charlie about the midterms next year and schedule co-ordination so I don't end up in Colorado in February or Florida in July." The four of them walked out of the Oval and toward the residence.

"So, how's the vetting coming, you two?" Harm looked over at his wife and the First Lady.

"Well, it's pretty much the same as it was two years ago." Mac answered. "It'll be a little more intense scrutiny now because I've written twenty-two opinions on the big bench since then. Plus, there are a lot of dinosaurs that aren't going to be all fired happy to see a woman as Chief."

"Well, there are a lot of Senators from our side of the aisle that would fall into that category too, if they weren't getting a lot of money and logistical support from women's groups every time they came up for re-election." The First Lady added. "Lucky for us, none of them sit on the Judiciary committee."

"What about you guys? Anything exciting today?" Mac looked at her husband and the President. "I mean, joint ventures, Mr. President. I think if you recounted your entire day to us, we wouldn't end up talking about anything else over dinner."

"Well, we reaffirmed our commitment to work with Colombia to eradicate the cartel from the Colombian political process. We met on the status of forces agreement with the Italian Ambassador and I was just on my way over to hand the President the latest Force Depletion report on the next quarter's peacekeeping activity in Afghanistan." Harm answered as they headed into the residence where the President was greeted by the head of his sons' security detail.

"Alright, guys, I'm gonna handle this, I'll be back in a second." The President headed off with the agent to see the boys in Brad's bedroom. They were sitting on the floor with two agents between Tim and Brad. Brad looked a little roughed up, his hair was mussed, he had a few bruises and a split lip but he really didn't look much the worse for wear. Tim, on the other hand, looked like he'd just tried to kiss a freight train; his lip was split, there was a pretty good shiner developing on his right eye, he had an ice pack pressed against his jaw and he seemed to be favouring his ribs. "What the hell did they do?"

"Got in a fight, sir." The Secret Service Agent answered.

"With who?" The President had his arms crossed and an iron jaw, no nonsense expression.

"Each other." The Agent replied.

"I had nothing to do with it." Jack protested.

"That's true, sir." The Agent nodded and the President motioned for Jack and the Agents to leave the room. The door clicked shut behind them.

"You two have exactly two minutes to explain what happened before I dole out punishments so severe it will make the Middle Ages look like a hippie picnic. You two got it?" The President questioned. His sons looked down at the floor trying to evade their father's molten glare. "If you think I'm kidding Timothy Byron or Bradley Frederick you will be so sorry, I promise you that."

"It's his fault." Brad muttered lowly. "I only hit him because he hit me."

"Well, he can't leave well enough alone." Tim responded to having his father's glare burned into his skull. Nate's angry stare turned back on Brad.

"What did you do, Brad?" Nate asked.

"I have no goddamn idea!" Brad protested.

"Watch your mouth, young man!" Nate's ire rose. "You can use that language with your brothers or your friends, you direct it at me again and you'll wish you couldn't speak." Brad gulped.

"He was flirting with Sasha." Tim charged.

"I was not!" Brad protested. "I was asking her for help with my homework this year so I could maybe get a B average this year and get that damn monkey off my back. Not to mention the fact that Sasha's not your girlfriend! What the hell right do you have to be jealous?"

Tim blanched. He had gone after his brother because of his own stupid jealousy. Unfounded, stupid jealousy; and all Brad had done was petition a very smart girl for help studying. "Brad, man, I'm sorry." Tim shook his head from side to side. "I don't know what happened, I just panicked."

"I know what happened, you want Sasha. Fine, it's good on you, but you gotta find a way to tell her because you can't try and beat up every guy who looks at her this year and to say it nicely, I wasn't the only one who grew this summer, a lot of guys are going to be looking." Brad advised.

"Your brother's right." Nate decided not to intervene in the fraternal moment until now. "If you like the girl, you have to tell her." Tim nodded slowly. "Now, Tim can I speak to your brother for a second?"

"Yeah, dad." Tim nodded and headed out the door. It shut behind him.

"Brad, you can't fight with Tim." Nate started. "You're bigger than he is by quite a bit. You could do some real damage. Look at what you did today. He's gonna be some awful sore tomorrow; did he actually get more than one punch in?"

"Three, I think. I landed about seven." Brad replied. "He got a good one in on my jaw."

"Yeah, I see that." Nate examined his son's face. "When I was younger, me and your uncle Steve had this really cute babysitter and I had a crush on her. Well, when my brother Preston came back from the farm after the summer, he started dating her and I didn't like that. Now, I was big like you, but Preston was still four years older than me and we got into it. He hung a pretty good beating on me and we fought for most of my teenage years. Brothers aren't supposed to fight, they're supposed to help each other; have each other's back. As such, as punishment, you and Tim are going to help the staff clean every square inch of the residence for the next month, understood?"

"Daaaaaaaad." Brad whined.

"I don't care, young man. Violence is not the answer." The President walked toward the door. "Next time, stay about the punching."

"Yes, dad." Brad nodded and his dad headed back to dinner. He saw Gunny and Stacy sitting at the table engaged in a seemingly passionate conversation. Gunny got more protective as Stacy was starting to show more and more. One the plus side, at least for the administration, the press seemed to be slowly letting up with their vitriol in the briefing room. It just looked bad to have a bunch of information hungry reporters picking on a pregnant woman. He then looked over at Harm and Mac. Harm laughing as he rarely seemed to any more. Then again, the President only ever saw his JCS Chairman if things were going terribly wrong somewhere. The women's movement was a miracle and the women tied to this administration were proof of that. The Vice President's wife was a Senator; the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs' wife was the soon-to-be Chief Justice of the United States. Even his own wife would soon be beginning a campaign to be elected a Senator from the state of Pennsylvania. The President sat down at the table.

"So, Stacy's how's the pregnancy coming along?" Harm asked as he took a sip of water.

"It's an experience." She started. "And it creates some interesting circumstances. When we went for an ultrasound a few weeks ago, I swear I saw an honest to God tear in his eye when he was looking at the screen." She elbowed Gunny playfully.

"Been there." Nate and Harm answered simultaneously.

TEN DAYS LATER

1705 ZULU

ST. GREGORY'S

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The gang was sitting around the table in the cafeteria at lunch, talking and sorting through the bag lunches they'd all brought from home. Within a few seconds, Lucy Davis came dashing into the cafeteria and wrapped her arms around Brad's neck, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Guess who's the new starting wide receiver for the football team?" She taunted.

"Alright!" Jack cheered and gave his brother a high five.

"Congrats." Tim nodded at Brad who responded in kind.

"Jack, you're going to be the second string quarterback according to the list coach posted. And Jimmy, you're the new water-boy." She smiled and wedged herself in between Jack and Brad.

"Well, looks like we've got plans for Friday afternoons until November at least." Jimmy cheered.

"Yeah, Jimmy. You and I actually get to do something; Jack has to ride the pine pony." Brad laughed and reached around Lucy to give Jack a clap on the shoulder.

"Hey, I might get into a few games, which means I get to decide just how many catches you end up making, buddy." Jack jeered his brother playfully.

"Well, if that happens, then the team is screwed, Jack." Brad joked and took a sip of his Pepsi. "So, Tim, how'd you do on that Math test on Monday?"

"94 percent." Tim answered. "What about you?"

"79 percent." Brad answered. "Getting better. Thanks for the help, Sash."

"Sasha helped you with your test?" Lucy questioned.

"Yeah, she's helping me study this year. I told you that." Brad explained quickly.

"I think you didn't." Lucy rebutted calmly. "But that's good. I know you wanted to improve at that kind of stuff."

"Well, I just want to be able to keep up with you." Brad winked at her and silently thanked God that he watched enough TV shows to be able to bullshit that well. "You're our grade representative to student council, right Tim?" Brad was trying to change the subject.

"Yeah." Tim nodded.

"What's going on this month with that kind of stuff?" Brad asked.

"Nothing really, this month." Tim shook his head. He loved watching Lucy make Brad squirm, so did Jimmy and Jack which made it all the more amusing.

1555 ZULU

DIRKSEN SENATE BUILDING

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Mac sat in the hallway outside the Senate Judiciary Committee room. She remembered being here for her first confirmation, getting the friendly face of Justice Meyer at the last minute as an ally in front of the committee. Now, the President couldn't send Justice Meyer again, it wasn't good to have two sitting Justices in front of the committee; not with midterms a year away and the Republican direct mailing list just waiting for a quick pot-shot or sound byte. The crowds were slowly flowing into the room again. The Senators were usually the first ones in, at least the ones who wanted to look good on C-SPAN this afternoon, so they could look better on _Meet the Press_ come Sunday morning.

"Madame Justice." A deep voice echoed from nearby.

"Mr. Attorney General." Mac replied. "An ally from the White House again?"

"The President figured it was either going to be me or the White House Counsel. And you never _ever_ let the White House Counsel appear in front of the Senate Judiciary Committee unless you're colossally stupid. So, I'm here to be your legal counsel for this hearing." The Attorney General smiled. "Now, let's just hope the concordat we arrived at with Senator Hewson prevents some of the excess animosity these proceedings tend to attract."

"Is there anyway that this doesn't devolve into a shouting match over abortion and capital punishment?" Mac asked.

"Abortion? Yeah, you answered that one in your first confirmation hearing. The Republicans aren't going to want to push it this time because they can't afford to piss off women's groups before the midterms. Capital Punishment? Well, you made your first dissenting opinion on the court a controversial one and most of the public still favours capital punishment, so it's a no lose option for the Republicans to bring it up." The Attorney General answered. "The First Lady's tough though, she's probably got you better prepared than a prize winning collie."

"Not the best analogy to use with reference to a woman." Mac chuckled as they headed into the committee room.

"Why do you think I'm divorced?" The A.G. questioned light-heartedly. "Go get'em." They took a seat in front of the committee. Up on the dais, the chairman of the committee gavelled the hearing into session and asked. Mac to stand.

"Do you swear that the testimony will be the truth, so help you God?" The chairman asked.

"I do." Mac answered and took her seat again.


	74. The Inheritance of a Great Example

_A/N: Decided on a different format for this chapter, hope you enjoy_

"_The legacy of heroes is the memory of a great name and __**the inheritance of a great example**__." _

_Benjamin Disraeli_

_5 years after the end of the Second Term_

GUNNY: Is the microphone on?

NBC REPORTER: Yeah, don't worry. Can you state your name please?

GUNNY: Victor Galindez

NBC REPORTER: And what position did you have in the Ross White House?

GUNNY: I was the White House Chief of Staff

NBC REPORTER: Now, it's five years out from the end of the administration, what thoughts do you have looking back on those years that you spent in the White House?

GUNNY: I think you always remember the people. In my job and in all the senior staff jobs at the White House it's about connecting with people. For Stacy, it was the press corps; for Charlie Scott it was Congress; for Derek Morley and Kat O'Leary it was the electorate and for the President, it was about fulfilling the hopes of the Nation. The White House is the ultimate symbol of the people.

NBC REPORTER: What was a typical day like in the Ross administration?

GUNNY: There was no such thing. Anything typical about the day ends by 9:30 that morning. When your party controls Congress, like the Democrats did for our eight years, you're not only held responsible for anything that comes out of the White House, you're responsible for anything that comes from our side of the aisle at the Capitol too. So, on the off chance that we weren't catching flack from the press for something that happened on Capitol Hill, than we needed to make sure that no one in the Cabinet had screwed anything up; than we had to batten down the tent flaps in the West Wing. If no one gaffed by noon, it was a good day.

NBC REPORTER: What about the afternoon?

GUNNY: A lot of the afternoons were spent with the Cabinet or the National Security Council. That was one thing that we took a lot of grief from the left about was that they thought we were too close to the military-industrial complex. We had to have some pretty top tier liberal Senators take the people out to the woodshed to get them to shut up.

NBC REPORTER: So, you guys didn't just have problem with the Republicans?

GUNNY: Some days I wish we only had problems with the Republicans. The Republicans we could understand, we could argue with and respect. But some of the bloggers and activists were endless pains in the ass, when you get attacked from the left; it's a little tougher to defend because you rarely expect an attack.

NBC REPORTER: Well, that was something that was brought up repeatedly in the early days. Pundits say this Democratic administration was closer to the military than previous Democrats had been. You were a Marine, the President was a Marine, the Secretary of Defence was a Navy SEAL, was there something about this administration that attracted military personnel?

GUNNY: We understood them. I'm not sure that it needs to be more than that or that it can be more than that. Democrats serve and Democrats get elected. You go back to Harry Truman and John Kennedy, even when FDR was the President his son and his nephew were serving in World War Two. I don't know how the Democrats got this bad reputation in the military, because I think you know having served in the White House and the military, the Democrats are the guys with the skin in the game all the time. So, when the President picked up a Navy SEAL from Texas and a Marine from New Mexico, he was updating the old truths of his party.

NBC REPORTER: Were you surprised about being tapped as the Chief of Staff?

GUNNY: Oh God, yes!

NBC REPORTER: Why?

GUNNY: I knew nothing about politics. Absolutely nothing. I knew how to run an office and that was what the President wanted for the first year. That was interesting for me because a lot of time, I got accused of running the office of an Imperial Presidency but that wasn't really the case. I can only ever recall meeting with three cabinet secretaries without the President there. He micromanaged my micromanaging. I never really strayed outside running the White House and I let the President run the cabinet and the executive.

NBC REPORTER: Now, I do want to switch course a little. Earlier you mentioned the people being a big part of the job, so I want to throw a few names out there and get an honest opinion from you.

GUNNY: Okay.

NBC REPORTER: Charlie Scott.

GUNNY: The best political man in the game. Charlie's got one of the best minds for political strategy in the United States without a doubt. He's working for one of the other ones now too.

NBC REPORTER: Nice segue to the next name, Nicole Ross.

GUNNY: chuckles See, everyone thought I was the President's top policy advisor but Mrs. Ross was very influential because she was so supportive of him. She was hostess and mother and wife and confidante all in one and I think there were times where she made my job and everyone else's job a lot easier. I'm very happy to have people like her in the Senate.

NBC REPORTER: Stacy Anderson.

GUNNY: Never saw her coming. I wasn't a political animal for the first year of my job but she was my consigliere politically and without here I never would have been able to do my job. I love her to death, I really do and I shudder to think where I'd be without her right now.

NBC REPORTER: Thank you for your time, sir.

_Cut away to dark_

_Lights come back up_

NBC REPORTER: Good evening, Mr. Rabb.

HARM: Thank you for having me.

NBC REPORTER: We just wanted to talk to you about the time you spent as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff during the Ross administration.

HARM: I'll tell you what I can.

NBC REPORTER: First off, let's talk about the Russo-Chinese Crisis of 2012; what was the first thing that went through your head when the President told you that you were going to be the United States Pacific Commander?

HARM: Honestly? I was worried that I would miss Christmas. See, my son Matt had been born in September the year before and this was the first Christmas where he'd really be kind of fully conscious and able to understand what was going on and I wouldn't want to miss that for anything in the world.

NBC REPORTER: Do you think the President knew that?

HARM: The President's daughter Hannah is about Matt's age, so yeah. But also, one father to another and one friend to another, I think he understood that any time you ask a man to be away from a family for a long period of time, you have to have a concept of what you're asking him to do.

NBC REPORTER: What went through your mind during those two weeks when the world watched tensions rise in the Pacific?

HARM: I think the first thing that went through my mind was fear. I was trained as a fighter pilot and for me, the scariest thing has always been losing control of a situation and at that time, it just felt like there was nothing we could do to keep our hands on the ball. It wasn't just fear of losing control; it was fear of getting involved, of not being able to protect my family. My wife's really good at keeping me grounded; I was calling her three times a day before the crisis was over.

NBC REPORTER: When the President nominated you to be the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, what were you thinking?

HARM: I think I was a little overwhelmed. Vacillating between JAG and flight ops in the Navy, I never really thought that I was on that kind of track and I never imagined that I'd be the senior military advisor to the President. Aside from my initial shock, I suppose I thought about whether or not it would facilitate a conflict of interest with Mac's job, I wasn't willing to take it if she couldn't sit on the bench.

NBC REPORTER: Was the President the one who put your mind at ease?

HARM: No, that would be the Attorney General. That was when I knew I was playing in the big leagues.

NBC REPORTER: Was it tough, being the senior Republican advisor to a Democratic President?

HARM: Well, the President and I had been friends for the better part of a decade so partisanship didn't really colour how we related with one another. Besides, the military is the military, when the brass send some young soldier, sailor, airman or Marine off to fight on foreign soil, there isn't an officer standing at the edge of the boat who says "hold up there, son. Are you a Democrat or a Republican?" One party's blue, one party's red and the Navy uniforms are white, that's how I look at it.

NBC REPORTER: Do you think one party's stronger on the military?

HARM: I may get in trouble for my answer, but no. I think what we have seen in the last few years is a reversal in the conduct of international affairs rather than a reversal in actual policy toward the military. In some ways, the biggest legacy of President Kennedy for the Democratic Party is the rejection of the force alternative in foreign policy. Similarly with President Nixon, the Republican Party has embraced the force alternative.

NBC REPORTER: Now, with regard to social issues, you and your wife seem to fall on opposite sides of the fence on a lot of social issues including things like Capital Punishment. Is that a fair assessment?

HARM: Kind of. Mac and I do disagree on Capital Punishment but with a lot of social issues, it's about context of how we make our decisions. It's Mac's job to interpret the Constitution, her own values never really enter into it. I have the luxury of holding my own personal values as a part of how I do my job.

NBC REPORTER: You and your wife have worked very hard to keep your children out of the public eye; does that sometimes get hard knowing how close they are to the Ross kids?

HARM: I think it's easier for us with Tommy and Matt because they're so young. With Sasha, it's a little different because she's an adult now and she is quite close to the Ross boys. She's also at University, so it's hard for me and Mac to act as a buffer between her and the media. She's really good at looking out for herself; she gets it from her mother.

NBC REPORTER: Do you know what she wants to do when she gets out of University?

HARM: She's really smart, it never ceases to amaze me or her mother, I think she's going back and forth between Doctor and Lawyer, though I could see her doing just about anything she put her mind to.

NBC REPORTER: Last question, are you going to run for President?

HARM: No.

_Cut the lights _

_Raise the lights _

NBC REPORTER: Thank you for sitting down with us today, Mr. Vice President.

STURGIS: Anything for NBC

NBC REPORTER: Looking back, on the term you spent as Vice President in the Ross Administration, what stands out in your mind the most?

STURGIS: I think it's a tie between the Inaugural and the First Hundred Days. The Inaugural was a powerful symbolic moment and I didn't even realize how significant it really was until I saw a picture. That was when it set in that I was the first Black Vice President of the United States. But the First Hundred Days, actually presiding over the Senate and the most significant advances in policy since the Great Society; I think that will be with me for the rest of my life.

NBC REPORTER: 2012 was the first time on record that there was an actual contest between candidates for the Vice Presidency, an actual campaign I mean, what were your thoughts when you jumped into the race?

STURGIS: I thought I was going to get killed. I was running against two cabinet secretaries and a Governor, I had very little political machinery to work with and no one had us polling above 7 percent in the first month among Democrats polled.

NBC REPORTER: When do you think things turned around?

STURGIS: When I stopped trying to talk to the Party bosses and started talking to large gatherings of Democrats. My wife had some polling done that showed that young Democrats were largely dismissive of Secretaries Proper and Wallace, so there was an opening there. Early on, it was the Young Democrats who gave us the momentum and propelled us from 7 percent in February to 19 percent by April.

NBC REPORTER: Was that when you started getting serious overtures from the Black Caucus?

STURGIS: I think that the Black Caucus had always intended to support my candidacy, looking back on it. But the level of the commitment that I got from them certainly increased after April.

NBC REPORTER: What most surprised you about being the Vice President?

STURGIS: Cabinet meetings, they're a little like the Chimps' Tea time at the London Zoo. There isn't a lot of talking at the Cabinet meetings unless you're one of the big six.

NBC REPORTER: Big six?

STURGIS: President, Vice President, Secretary of State, Secretary of Defence, Attorney General or Secretary of the Treasury. Contrary to popular belief, Gunny didn't speak a lot during the Cabinet meetings, he didn't really need to but you knew that if there was one person in the room who could correct the President, if the President got a fact wrong, it was him.

NBC REPORTER: How did your wife take to being the Second Lady of the United States?

STURGIS: Well, when I met my wife she was the congresswoman for Michigan's 13th District, so she was better versed in Official Washington than I was when I took the job. She used to tell people, she was elected before me and will keep getting elected after me, but my legacy will live longer than hers. I think she took it with her usual good humour and fierce commitment to her job.

NBC REPORTER: You were running against Danny Proper for the Vice Presidency and both the _Washington Post _and the _Wall Street Journal_ ran articles saying you were too under-qualified for the job, how did you react to that?

STURGIS: I was worried they were right, quite honestly. Danny is a great politician and he's a great leader, he was the youngest mayor in the United States, a Governor and a Cabinet Secretary, I was really worried that they might be right. I did have certain advantages over him, I was a former submariner and an international law expert and for six months I'd been serving as the Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. I wasn't under-qualified, just differently qualified than he was.

NBC REPORTER: If you could pick someone from either Party to run for President in the next election, who would you pick?

STURGIS: I'm not supposed to pick anyone, that's the thing. But I'm not running and I don't really have a preference, there are a few Senators and Governors I know who would make great Presidents but if I absolutely had to pick one from either Party, I'd have to say; Nicole Ross from the Democrats and Harmon Rabb from the Republicans.

NBC REPORTER: What if they ran on the same ticket?

STURGIS: Now wouldn't that be something?

_Lights fade_

_Lights come up _

NBC REPORTER: Thank you for doing this, Madam First Lady.

NICOLE: Well, those eight years in the White House were important to me and they were monumental in the course of American history.

NBC REPORTER: What stands out most for you about your time as First Lady?

NICOLE: The people I got to help. Harriet Roberts was an amazing help in running the office of the First Lady and it's in large part due to her efforts that we were able to do so much for so many foundations including breast cancer, the USO and battered women's shelters. We raised millions, we were able to get amendments put on bills to allow for stiffer punishments for violence against women, it was a very productive eight years.

NBC REPORTER: Madam First Lady, one of the key…subplots, I suppose one would say about your husband's tenure in the Oval Office were your kids. There seemed to be no shortage of cheap political players willing to try and make hay out of the actions of your children, how did your family deal with that?

NICOLE: It was the toughest personal part of the job. Our boys never asked for the press spotlight and so, Nathan and I fought the press to keep them out of the papers and off television as much as we could. If it was anything political, we wouldn't let the boys get within twenty miles of it. I think the only press that we ever let the kids near were a few interviews that Brad did with Sports Illustrated and one that Helene did with Cosmo.

NBC REPORTER: What day in the White House is the one that remains at the front of your mind?

NICOLE: That would be the assassination attempt. The horror of that day was something…I swear to God, when I thought my husband had been shot…I didn't know what to do, I couldn't move. My daughter, Helene was standing with me and she just screamed in blank white terror at what she thought she saw on the TV. She started to cry and then my boys came running into the room and I immediately turned the television off. The Secret Service crashed the building, the White House was locked down and I waited until I had any information from the Secret Service before trying to explain what happened to the kids. It's tough to explain, that fear, no one should ever have to experience it just because of the sheer terror and helplessness it unleashes on your soul. Your mind immediately remembers your favourite little traits about that person. I remembered all the times I'd seen him happy; all the times I'd seen him smile. I don't know why, but for that reason, that day, those few minutes will always be with me.

NBC REPORTER: You took an active behind the scenes roll in a lot of political processes at the White House including the confirmations of both Secretaries of State and the Chief Justice. Do you feel that this detracted from the more traditional and ceremonial role that you also tried to assume as First Lady?"

NICOLE: It's really tough to judge that because of how tough it is to balance those two separate areas. There are a lot of things that the President needs to have done and needs have someone he trusts who is able to do them. Because the Chief of Staff is busy with all manner of other things, as is most of senior staff, I often assumed this role. It was good because there were a lot of circumstances, especially because of my foreign policy experience, where I felt I could be a useful advisor to the White House. I think we need to move beyond the stereotype of the First Lady as the "little woman". A part of me thinks it may be that spousal expectation that provides the biggest obstacle from having a woman ever obtain the Presidency.

NBC REPORTER: At the same time, you were able to chart record approval ratings in a lot of the more traditionally Republican areas of the country, why do you think that was?

NICOLE: I've never been thoughtless about the way my feminism could impact differently on different cultural communities in the country. There are some people who will never be comfortable with the idea of the First Lady as an equal partner to the President. I'm not here to change their opinion. I'm not here to change anyone's opinion. I'm here to be a mother to my kids, a partner to my husband and hopefully a good role model to young women. If I did that over my eight years in the White House, then I accomplished the only three things that really matter to me, everything else is just a bonus; often a great one, but a bonus nonetheless.

NBC REPORTER: How do you think that role differs from one of a politician?

NICOLE: A politician is entrusted with the voice of the people and a responsibility to govern in their interest. No one votes for the First Lady, that's why they don't make us debate. I get to have my own pet projects, my own agenda as First Lady. As a politician, that focus on my own desires has to come second to the desires of constituents or the ability to act in their long term best interests.

NBC REPORTER: Thank you, Madam First Lady.

_ Lights Fade _

_Lights Come Up _

NBC REPORTER: We hope you learned some things here tonight. The White House is a place of immeasurable awe that signifies all that is good about our country. But at the heart of it, as is the case of all the greatest things American, are its people. These are ordinary people put in extraordinary circumstances, wielding incredible amounts of power. In most cases, it would be a recipe for corruption on the grandest scale and some times it had yielded that result. But more often then not, it has shown us the limitless bounds of the American spirit and the power of people of good character. For generations to come, the Ross administration and the people who served in it for its eight year run will continue to inspire Americans of all political stripes. The former First Lady gave us a quote from one of her heroes and we thought it a fitting way to end tonight's broadcast, and to spur further discussion and thought. Margaret Mead said "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it is the only thing that ever has." For NBC, I'm Raff Wallis. Goodnight.

_ Lights fade _


	75. Good Citizens Who Don't Vote

"_Bad officials are elected by __**good citizens who don't vote."**__ – George Jean Nathan_

_A/N: Alright, this journey is coming to a close, we don't have thirty-six chapters left, we only have the storylines for six, sorry. Please be careful to mind the Month and Year at the beginning of each of the new chapters from here on out. It'll just save a lot of time and explanation as certain storylines develop. For note, the last chapter in the timeline continuum was dated September 2013._

_November 2014_

It was Monday night, and St. Greg's was playing against James Madison Middle School in Silver Spring, Maryland. It had been a rough season for St. Greg's. They'd lost most of their offensive and defensive lines to graduation last year so they'd taken three losses in the first three games of the season but they'd come together in the last five games of the season to make the playoffs. It had been the inverse of last year when the team had won its first four games before losing its starting quarterback Kyle Richardson at the end of the first half in the fifth game against St. Dom's to a hyper-extended knee. Luckily for Jack, he came into a game where the team was already up 31-3.They won that game but lost the last three and just squeaked into the playoffs.

But they'd caught fire in the playoffs. Jack soon got used to the big pressure games as the quarterback and he fell into his role as the leader in the huddle. They ran through the playoffs all the way to the State Championship against Bull Halsey Junior High from Annapolis. They beat Halsey 14-10 and went on to win St. Greg's first state championship in football in more then 25 years.

Now, they were back in a similar situation. Down 31-28 with twenty-one seconds left on the clock and one time out. Jack brushed the tips of his fingers on his tongue and stepped in behind the center. He called for the snap and the center hiked the ball. Jack knew he'd have to wait for a few seconds before his favourite target would be open enough to have a real impact. He faked the hand off to the running back and moved quickly to his right out of the rapidly collapsing pocket. He saw his brother down field near the Madison ten yard line and Jack threw the ball.

It soared majestically through the air toward its intended receiver. Brad went up for the ball with his arm fully extended. He pulled in the ball but the two step lead that he had on the cornerback evaporated and Brad was pulled down on the four yard line. Jack skipped the huddle and rushed his team back on to the line as the time ticked down just passing ten seconds remaining. Jack waved his brother way over to the far right side in a very blatant manner, so as to make sure the defence saw. The clock kept ticking down to the end of the fourth quarter, there were six seconds left when Jack called for the snap. The center hiked the ball and Jack wheeled to the left side of the pocket, looking right as if to throw to Brad. Once the defence had moved that way, Jack made a mad run for the end zone. He saw the outside linebacker for Madison heading for him so once he hit the two yard line; Jack made a head first dive for the end zone. With his hands out in front of him and the ball clutched tight, his helmet collided with that of the linebacker.

There was a pile-on with Jack on the bottom and a group of Madison defenders on top of him. The referee blew the whistle repeatedly and ran over to clear the Madison players off of the St. Greg's quarterback. The ref threw his hands in the air to indicate that a touchdown had been scored with no time left on the clock. St. Greg's was going to its second consecutive state championship game to once again face Bull Halsey Junior High from Annapolis. The team celebrated on the field for a few minutes before heading to the locker room.

Last year had been a banner year for St. Greg's athletics. Actually it had been a banner year for the gang in general. Sasha Rabb was moving up in the quality of the roles she was getting in the school play, as last year she had played the Wicked Witch of the West in the school's production of _The Wizard of Oz_. Sure, she'd had to endure five months of jokes about her role but in the end it had been worth it. She'd even got Tim involved in it, sure he'd been a member of the stage crew but it was a step. Jimmy Roberts had even gotten himself a girlfriend, though they "broke up" three weeks later. Brad and Jack had led both the football and hockey teams to state championships the previous season, with Brad also helping the baseball team to a state championship of its own.

Brad and Jack walked out of the dressing room after the game with their letterman jackets on. "You two managed to pull it out right at the end of the game again." Sasha taunted as she stood there with Tim and Jimmy waiting for them.

"We're good." Jack answered as he ran a hand through his sweat drenched hair.

"I'm willing to stick with a grade of 'Exceeds Expectations'." Brad answered. "We almost lost this one, Jack."

"Well, an almost lost and an actual loss ain't the same, Brad." Jack gave him a pat on the back as the Secret Service guided them toward the car. "How can you catch two touchdown passes, nine passes overall for 193 yards and still be depressed?"

"We got Halsey on Friday, man. We can't play like this against them, they'll kill us. As it was last year, they shut down our passing game. We gotta run the ball and we gotta play tighter defence, especially down the middle." Brad leaned up against the car.

"Alright, coach." Jack taunted. "Get in."

1416 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

"I wanna know how you could predict this more then a year off." Charlie burst into Gunny's office. "Last DNC tracking poll has Tureski trailing by three points in New Hampshire. Both Lamoureaux and Cleary are in statistical ties. Lamoureaux is up by two in Louisiana and Cleary's down one in North Carolina."

"Lamoureaux's a good Senator in a conservative state but he generates turnout like mad in New Orleans. Cleary's a mediocre Senator in a conservative state that we've carried twice. He doesn't inspire a lot of confidence in liberals and the electorate is more conservative in midterm years anyway; especially in the South." Gunny took a seat behind his desk. "How's the DCCC feeling about the House tonight?"

"They get the feeling that we're gonna take a hit and lose seats tonight. The Republicans are praying for rain, they're thinking we could lose thirty-eight seats tonight and hand over the majority to them." Charlie shook his head. "I want a pound of whatever they're smoking."

"Let me guess; Ohio 3rd, Pennsylvania 6th, Florida 7th, Texas 10th and the California 50th." Gunny chanced as he tossed a position paper from the Department of Energy on his desk.

"You're good." Charlie nodded his head. "So, it starts tomorrow, huh?"

"What?" Gunny asked looking up from his desk again.

"The 2016 Presidential election." Charlie answered. "Word has it that one Democrat and one Republican are both going to announce their candidacy tomorrow."

"Who from our side do you figure?" Gunny half humoured his deputy out of semi-serious interest.

"Governor McKinnon of Florida, if my sources at the FEC are right." Charlie shook his head. "He's too liberal, it's amazing that Floridians actually re-elected him once. It's gonna be a crowded field on both sides, especially if the Vice President stays out."

"He'll stay out, good a man as he is, he doesn't want to be President." Gunny leaned back in his chair a bit.

"So, that gives us McKinnon; probably Secretary Proper and Senator Gonzalez. That's a field with some stars, right there." Charlie intertwined his fingers. "Not to mention you got Governor Harder on the outside looking in."

"Nash Harder? Governor of Ohio?" Gunny took a step back mentally. "There's a lot of money there. He's a popular, tax-cutting Governor of a huge and complicated and politically moderate state. He's the only one I can think of that can compete with Gonzalez on fundraising. Proper's got a huge political organization though; he was the Governor of Iowa, three term Congressman from Iowa's third district and the youngest mayor in Des Moines history after being elected at twenty-five. He's got a mortal lock on the Iowa caucus, which means that Nevada, New Hampshire and South Carolina become all the more important."

"So, basically, the Democratic primaries become a free-for-all. Is there any way that this has a good clear outcome before the convention?" Charlie looked across the table for a prognostication.

"_You're_ asking _me?_" Gunny sounded incredibly surprised.

"I just don't see it. Everyone's gonna think they've got a shot. Proper's got the most experience. Gonzalez has the most charisma. McKinnon has the most credibility with liberals. Harder has the most credibility with Independents. There's gonna be a flooded field, there are people who are going to run that we can't even predict right now." Charlie answered. "And the bitch of it is, I'm not sure that one of them can beat Hewson if he wins the Republican nomination. Hewson's pro-tax cuts, pro-choice, pro-spending cuts, pro-nuclear energy and a moderate on foreign policy. If we nominated McKinnon or Gonzalez, Hewson will eat the Democrats alive. Y'ever see Cal Hewson campaign?"

"A few glimpses on Minnesota TV when he was running for re-election two years ago." Gunny answered.

"It probably has something to do with being a Republican holding state-wide office in Minnesota. He can go into those general stores and coffee shops and town halls all over the country and sound more intelligent than any Republican they've ever heard. Largely, because he is." Charlie leaned forward in the chair. "You going to work for one of the campaigns if they ask?"

"Nah, I'm here because the President plucked me out of an office in Quantico, I'm not here as an employee of the Democratic Party, I'm here as a member of the Ross administration and when we leave here in two years, I'll leave politics." Gunny answered wisely. "What about you? You're the best political mind in the whole damn party."

"You're stuck with me for the next two years." Charlie answered with a chuckle. "After that, I imagine I'll move over to the Senate and probably work as the legislative director for Mrs. Ross, if she wins the Pennsylvania Senate race."

"This is normally the point when the administration starts purging staff, right?" Gunny asked. "The primaries usually drain the some of the top talent from the White House don't they?"

"I think we're pretty safe." Charlie cracked his knuckles. "I'm staying, you're staying, Morley has been with the boss since 1993 so, he's not going anywhere."

"And Kat? She's a great speechwriter, a pretty good political mind and she wasn't a part of the administration until after the first year." Gunny hypothesized. "Think she'll be the target of some campaign headhunting?"

"Time will tell." Charlie replied.

2019 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

GREAT FALLS, VIRGINIA

It had all happened so suddenly. Well, suddenly and yet not, Mac supposed as she sat on the couch comforting the kids. Frank had been sick for some time. Multiple Sclerosis was not in itself fatal but in combination with his age, the weakening of his immune and neurological systems had made it tougher for him to fight off other maladies. It had been a tragedy that the kids had had to watch there grandfather weaken in front of their very eyes over the last few years. Mac supposed it was too tough a circumstance for Matt to understand considering that he was all of three. She thought that Tommy would have the toughest time with it because he was old enough to comprehend what he saw but not yet mature enough at nine years old to really get a handle on what was behind it.

Of course, there was Sasha. Mac thought her daughter a marvel of this world for how she'd acted over the last few hours. Of course, hearing that her grandfather had passed on was tough on her and she had sat on the edge of her bed and had a good cry with her mother this morning but since Harm had left with Trish to make funeral preparations, Sasha had been working hard to keep herself composed enough to help her mom. Your main goal, as a parent, is that you want to raise good kids and over the last few hours the doubt in Mac's mind had been slowly calmed as Sasha helped her with Matt and Tommy.

The phone rang and Mac picked it up. "Hello." She answered.

"Hi, Mac, it's Nicole." The voice on the other end replied. "Nate just told me, Harm called him from his cell phone. I'm so sorry."

"Thanks, Nicole." Mac tried to smile as she blinked away tears. "We found out at the hospital late last night. The whole day's starting to become one big dense fog."

"How are the kids taking it?" Nicole asked, the maternal concern dripping from every syllable.

"They're taking it kind of rough. Sasha's been a real trooper. This is the first member of the family who has died that Tommy really knew so, it's hitting him kind of hard. And Matt, I don't know what to say to Matt." Mac ran a hand through her hair. "I've thought of just telling him that grandpa has gone to a better place to be with God, but he's three and his favourite question is 'why?' And that's a question I don't know that I could explain to him."

"Yeah, we had the same problem with the boys when Nate's dad died. Eventually we arrived at the conclusion that we'd just tell them what we could now and explain the rest of it to them when they got older." Nicole suggested. "Thing is, there's no right or wrong way to do this. Mac, the boys wanted to go to the funeral but with the Secret Service it would just be too much of a hassle for you guys and too much of a distraction. This really should be about your family. But would it be okay for them to come to the wake afterward?"

"Yeah." Mac answered lightly and nodded on her side of the phone. "I think Sasha would really like having some of her friends there."

"Well, I'll tell the Secret Service." Nicole let out a hard breath. "Do you know when it's going to be?"

"Yeah, Harm just called and said it would be Friday." Mac answered as she walked into the living room to check up on the kids. "He and Trish are trying to make preparations as we speak. I'll talk you later, Madam First Lady."

"Talk to you later, Madam Chief Justice." Nicole responded, silently marvelling that Mac was still able to maintain some good humour in light of the circumstances. She walked down the hall to see the boys. Jack was sitting on the end of his bed carefully reading over the playbook that the coach had given out at the beginning of the year. She'd commented inside her head that she'd never seen him study this hard at math or English but, she was glad he'd found something he was really into. "Studying, Jackie?"

"Nah, mom. Just really wanna win the game on Friday. It'd be great to put up back-to-back state championships. Show, that I can actually play the game." Jack closed the book and rubbed his eyes. "I just want to be good, you know? I just want to be known for something that has nothing to do with dad. That's so tough, mom. I mean, Brad's good at it. He's Mr. Natural Talent but Tim…and me, we gotta work at it. You know, Brad can talk to Sports Illustrated and talk about finding your own path and moving out of dad's shadow, but it's always been easy for him. I want to be good, but school doesn't come to me and sports do."

"I know, honey." Nicole gave her son a hug. "But you're good at being you, and that's all you can really hope to be."

"Mom, that's nice but I'm thirteen, I don't buy it any more." Jack shook his head. "I mean, I hear grandma talk about how dad was always the top of his class and always the class President. Then when Nana comes over, she talks about how you were a natural at volleyball and how you always were such a good cheerleader. I mean, I know how Brad fits into the family, I know how Tim does. I don't know how I do."

"You're my son, you're your father's son, you're your brothers' brother and your sisters' brother; that's how you fit into this family." Nicole kissed the top of his head.

"Just so you should know, mom, if you're going to Tim's room next, he's sick." Jack warned. "He got pretty sick at lunch."

"Why didn't he come home?" Nicole asked.

"He has all his afternoon classes with, Sasha." Jack was grinning sarcastically from ear to ear.

"Ah, enough said." Nicole nodded and headed out of the room.

1515 ZULU, FRIDAY

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The midterms had been an only semi-sobering lesson for the Democrats. They'd lost five House members. Not exactly the ones Gunny had predicted however; they'd lost two in Texas to add on to losses in the Ohio 3rd, Florida 7th and California 50th Districts. They'd held the vulnerable seat in Pennsylvania. Sadly, last night had been the last night for the House Republican Minority Leader who had decided to retire because he felt that the Republicans hadn't done enough to try and return to the majority. The new Republican Minority Leader was the former Republican Minority Whip. He was the representative from Virginia's First Congressional District.

The Senate had been a slightly larger scare. The Louisiana, New Hampshire and North Carolina races had all gone long into the wee small hours of the morning. Democratic Senator Evelyn Tureski of New Hampshire was the first to lose her seat, which she conceded around 11:55pm Eastern Standard Time. Democratic Senator Louis Lamoureaux of Louisiana ended up retaining his Senate seat by little more then 12,000 votes. In North Carolina the contest dragged on until well past 3:00 in the morning. Eventually, the Secretary of State for North Carolina finally certified the results as a Democratic loss by 721 votes. The Senate was now split 60-40 and the House was 250-185.

The new Republican leader sat outside the Oval Office waiting for his appointment with the President. The Oval Office was the greatest home field advantage in politics. The construction, the decoration of the room was all designed to remind any guest that it was the person who sat behind the desk that was the President of the United States, the Leader of the Free World and there was no forgetting it. The Republican leader looked across the office at the aged Mrs. Clarkson whose spectacles were perched regally on the end of her nose.

"May I ask who's in there right now?" The Republican leader asked the President's Executive Secretary.

"The British Ambassador." Mrs. Clarkson answered. "You may actually be lucky on this one, Congressman, because the two of them usually take a lot longer."

"The President and the British Ambassador get along _that_ well?" The Republican sounded amazed.

"Well, it helps that they're second cousins." The Secretary answered as the door to the Oval opened and the British Ambassador came walking out.

"Thank you for scheduling the appointment, Mrs. Clarkson. I shall require the exact same time next month, can that be arranged?" Lord Farnham leaned forward on the desk.

"Of course, Lord Roger." Mrs. Clarkson smiled at him fondly and logged another appointment in the President's day planner. The British Ambassador trotted toward the exit of the building. "The President will see you now, Congressman."

The Republican leader walked into the Oval Office and came face to face with the President. "Paul! Nice to see you, come on in."

"Morning, Mr. President." Paul Davis was a ten term Congressman from Virginia's first district. He stood slightly under six feet tall with a crew-cut and slightly overweight.

"Well, I just figured that I should congratulate you on your elevation to Minority Leader in the House. I'd say we should toast to your promotion but it's a little early for that." The President laughed. "You know why you're here?"

"I do." Paul Davis took a seat. "You think this is going to be a human interest story."

"I do." The President nodded. "I think my son dating your daughter is now a tabloid kind of thing because you're the House Republican leader. I think that some culture clash subscriber on either my side of the aisle or yours is going to get on cable news and shout their mouth off. My kids are used to dealing with it after six years; I just want you guys to have a heads up."

"Well, thank you, Mr. President." Congressman Davis gave a nod to the President. "You know, I always wanted to make a joke about Lucy dating a Democrat but at least she found one that can play football."

"I'll let Brad know you approve." Nate laughed. "You know, I've done everything in my power to keep the press away from my kids so that they can have something resembling a normal life. I just kind of want you to know that if you want, I'll march into my press room and ruffle a few feathers about respecting the privacy of kids."

"That's very kind of you, sir." Congressman Davis smiled fondly. "It's kind of amazing to hear that for all of our partisan chest-thumping we really do get along pretty well behind closed doors."

"That's not gonna stop you from going on MSNBC or CNN and blasting me on a few bills is it?" The President asked with a look that anticipated another round of laughter.

"Absolutely not, sir. But I'll absolutely give you a call beforehand and let you know that I'm going on TV to blast one of your bills." Paul Davis laughed.

"Well, the only question then is how we convince our kids that we don't actually hate each other so our kids don't get caught in some Montague-Capulet nightmare." The President theorized.

"You aren't worried that our kids will think we're incredibly disingenuous if we can attack each other in the media but still like each other when the cameras are off?" The Congressman was having a good chuckle.

"Yeah, I was really hoping I could wait a few years before having to explain the term _political theatre_ to my kids but I guess it'll be sooner rather then later." The President was still laughing. "Say, Paul, it's getting about that time. Wanna have lunch? I'm almost never on time for it."

"Why, Mr. President, I'd be honoured, sir." The Republican laughed as the two men headed off for the White House kitchens.

1821 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

GREAT FALLS, VIRGINIA

It had been a wonderful service. Harm and Trish had planned everything down to the smallest detail. Mac guessed that it was their way of grieving. That they felt the only way they could grieve was to try and honour Frank as best they could. Though, she'd seen more then a few mascara stains on Trish's cheeks over the last few days. Mac looked over and saw Harm trapped in a discussion with a few Vice Presidents from Chrysler who were trying to convey their sympathies without ruffling their suits or haircuts in anyway.

Trish was receiving a score of their friends from California by the refreshment table. She had tried to maintain a veneer of strength through the funeral and she had succeeded until Harm had been called upon to deliver the eulogy. Perhaps one of the most touching moments in the church had been Sergei wrapping a supportive arm around Trish's shoulders. Harm had really written a hell of a eulogy, it had created more then a few tears in the church.

Being as it was just after noon, there were still mourners coming into the house and there were well-wishers who hadn't made the funeral popping in regularly as well. Whereas both Bax and Keeter had actually been able to go to the funeral, Vice President Turner and Senator Latham-Turner had shown up at about quarter to one to wish Harm and Mac well and see how the two of them were doing. A few of Harm's colleagues from the Joint Chiefs of Staff had popped in as well and seven of Mac's fellow Supreme Court Justices had stopped by.

Her kids had been dealing with the growing crowd of people in their own ways. Mac had put Matt down for a nap when they got home but Tommy and Sasha insisted on staying downstairs to talk to some people. Tommy hadn't dealt with it quite as well as Sasha; Tommy had only been able to take a few hours of hearing how hard it must be for him before running upstairs to his room. Sasha, on the other hand, seemed to understand that people asking how she was doing really wanted someone to see that they themselves were handling the loss alright.

Mac saw the door open and two men in dark suits walked in followed by one shorter, very much younger man. It was not the brother that Mac would have expected. Brad walked over to Mac. "Hey, Mrs. Rabb. My mom sends her best but she couldn't make it. Tim's sick with the flu and needs someone to look after him. Jack would come but it's the State Championship tonight and there's no way he's stopping his practice drills this afternoon." Brad had his hands on his hips and a fond smile on his face. "Where's Sasha?"

"I think she's out back on the porch." Mac motioned to the back door and Brad headed passed her. He tapped on the screen door and moved out on to the porch.

"How you holdin' up, kid?" He asked, his hands stuffed firmly in his pockets.

"Like if someone asks me that question one more time, I'll be on trial for manslaughter." She turned back toward him. "For once, I'm not seeing three of you, why is that?"

"One has the flu and couldn't make it. He wanted to but mom had the Secret Service tape him to the bed." Brad commented and Sasha struggled hard not to giggle. "Jack's the starting quarterback tonight and he's been warming up the arm all afternoon. I guess you're stuck with just me."

"And how does Lucy feel about that?" Sasha worked her way over to him.

"She's perfectly fine with you being my mistress." Brad answered without missing a beat. He gave her a hug. "I'll ask again, how you doin'?"

"Been better." She answered with tears in her eyes. "Trying to imagine what it will be like to never see my grandfather again and I just can't see how something like that is possible."

"Yeah, it's tough, but it gets easier." Brad answered as they took a seat.

"Why are you here, don't you have to get to the big game tonight, too?" She asked, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Yeah, but I figured that you could use a friend right now more than Jack could

use a receiver to warm up with." Brad smiled at her. She hugged him tightly and released that cry that she'd been holding in ever since her mom told her about her grandfather. Mac quickly peaked out the back window on to the porch. She was glad her daughter had such good friends.

2336 ZULU

BULL HALSEY JUNIOR HIGH

ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND

It was the last drive of the game once again. The Halsey team was good again this year, the ultimate defensive team. The score was 13- 10, with forty seconds to go in the game and no time outs left, Jack and the St. Greg's Capitals took to the field. Jack gathered the offence into the huddle. They were starting this drive on their own thirty-seven yard line. Jack brushed the tips of his fingers across his tongue and stepped in behind the center. He called for the snap and the center hiked the ball back to him. Jack wheeled back into the pocket and handed the ball off to the running back who wormed his way through the defensive line and immediately ran for the sidelines.

He got there for a nine yard gain. With the time on the clock stopped at thirty-three seconds, Jack took time for another quick huddle. The huddle broke and Jack stepped in behind the center again. He took the snap and stepped back as if to pass the ball. Then he made a run for it. He picked up the first down and about another twelve yards. He was brought down on the Halsey forty-two yard-line. Jack rushed the offence up to the line of scrimmage and then stepped in behind the center to call for the snap. Jack stepped back into the pocket and found an open receiver to his left. He hurled the ball to him for an eleven yard reception.

There was seventeen seconds left on the clock. The last three plays had been an attempt by Jack Ross to get Halsey to respect the running game and to keep their coverage off Brad. But it was make or break time. Jack sent the offensive line up to the line of scrimmage and he settled back into a shotgun formation. Jack called for the snap as time continued to tick slowly off the clock. He looked to his left and saw man to man coverage on two receivers, so he looked to his right and saw two members of the Halsey secondary trying to cover Brad but his brother had two steps on both of them and was nearing the right edge of the end-zone. Mustering all the power in his right arm, Jack fired the ball downfield to Brad who went up for it. He brought the ball in for a reception. He brought his right foot down in bounds with the toes of his left foot dragging along the grass as he fell out of bounds.

Now, it was only a question about whether or not Brad was in bounds. If he was in, St. Greg's won the state championship; if he was out of bounds, there was no time to run another play and Halsey was the State Champion. Jack stood back at the thirty-five waiting for the call. The referee threw his arms up into the air to signal a touchdown and Brad leapt to his feet. Jack pulled his helmet off and ran downfield to give his brother a hug.

The trophy presentation afterward was a very nice one. The two teams met at the fifty-yard line to shake hands as the Governor of Maryland presented the trophy to St. Greg's. The Game Most Valuable Player award was given to Jack Ross and St. Greg's was then free to celebrate a second consecutive State Championship.

0219 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

GREAT FALLS, VIRGINIA

Mac walked into their bedroom to see Harm staring down at a picture. She recognized it by the frame. It was one that their wedding photographer had taken of the two of them with Frank and Trish. Mac got a little choked up just at the thought of that day and walked over to sit next to her husband on the bed. She wrapped her arms around his waist and perched her head on his shoulder. "You know, you've been trying to deal with this on your own all week. You can lean on me from time to time if you need to." She whispered to him.

He turned to face her and kissed her forehead. "I know, Mac. It's just tough to believe he's gone."

"It'll be tough for the first while, but you've got me, and the kids and we'll make sure you get through it okay." She answered with a fond smile. "He was a good man."

"He helped make me one to." Harm added and he set the picture down on the nightstand. "Let's go to bed."


	76. These Are Part of the Scenery

"_We are not victims of aging, sickness and death. __**These are part of **__**scenery**__, not the seer, who is immune to any form of change. This seer is the spirit, the expression of eternal being.__" – Deepak Chopra_

_April 2015_

Well, it was the worst time of the season in Washington. It was a Presidential election with no incumbent from either Party. As expected, the Republicans had dived head first into the fray because they'd been out of power for eight years. First into the breech had been Trent McElroy a six term Congressman from Indiana. After him came two Governors, Roy Milne of Wyoming and Aaron Dawes of Oklahoma. Then came Senator Fred Henstock of Tennessee; described by Time Magazine as "…a bible belt Republican if ever there was one."

Then the two heavyweights jumped into the fight. First was South Carolina Senator Bryan Ackerman; the slickest, most charismatic son of a bitch Republican in the Senate and as socially conservative as the day is long. Then there was the heavyweight, the darling of both libertarians and Rockefeller Republicans, Senator Calvin Hewson of Minnesota. The Republican Primary looked like a Battle Royale wrestling match

The Democrats looked a bit like turtle race. The first in, as Charlie had predicted, was Governor McKinnon of Florida but the polling and fundraising bump that he had expected from his announcement was blunted by the fact that the next day Senator Connie Playfair of Maryland announced her candidacy, which caught every Democrat in the known universe by surprise. Now, the first serious woman contender for the Presidency was in the race. Senator Bill Halladay of Illinois got into the race which meant that the liberal wing of the Party was well-represented already. So, by the time Senator Gonzalez got into the race, he couldn't grab more then 22 percent support among Democrats.

Then the moderates got into the race. It started with the Secretary of the Treasury. Seven years earlier, Danny Proper had been on everyone's Vice Presidential shortlist. Three years ago, but for a miraculous eleventh hour campaign by Vice President Turner, Danny Proper would have been the Vice President. Now, with a resume that was unmatched, he launched his own bid for the Presidency. Preliminary polls had him at 20 percent of likely Democratic Primary voters nation-wide.

Last, there was Governor Nash Harder, the three term Democratic Governor of Ohio. His entry into the race had happened last week and he'd been immediately launched to the top of the pack at 24 percent. It was common knowledge that the Democrats would have to carry Ohio to have any chance in the General Election against the Republicans. And this was the kind of atmosphere that permeated through the White House as April rolled around.

"I need three votes, Charlie. Tell me you've got three votes in the Senate." Gunny caught up to his Deputy in the hallway.

"Gonzalez is in Nevada and Halladay is in Iowa campaigning. Playfair is in New Hampshire, but she won't catch the shuttle from Logan to Dulles unless we get the other two. We're down one Democratic vote in the Senate anyway because Rosenthal can't vote for it." Charlie answered as the two men headed for the Oval Office.

"Hal Rosenthal? Liberal Hal? _He's_ not voting for a bill to help save the environment?" Gunny shuffled his clipboard from one hand to the other.

"He's a liberal Democrat from Michigan; he's got enough problems without voting in favour of a bill that'll give GM an excuse to cut another 1200 jobs." Charlie explained.

"Have any of the campaigns called you yet to see if you'd take the reins?" Gunny and Charlie walked into the Oval.

"I got a call from the Harder people just before he announced and from Senator Playfair right _after_ she did." Charlie answered. "There's no clear winner in this race, it'll drive the DNC Chairman nuts right up until the convention."

"Liberals love proper and moderates love Harder, who's giving Danny Proper all his support?" Gunny and Charlie took their seats and waited for the President.

"Ross Democrats." Charlie answered. "The people looking for an heir apparent to the President."

"I don't know whether we should be depressed or cheerful that that's 20 percent of Democrats." Gunny rolled his eyes as the President walked into the room.

"Will someone please explain to me why we only have 56 votes in the Senate to close off debate on the Climate Change Bill?" The President looked at his two top advisors.

"We've got three Senators on the campaign trail and Rosenthal is jumping ship because…" Gunny started.

"Because he's from Michigan and he can't vote for an environment bill that would cause even one lost job at Ford." The President completed the sentence.

"I was thinking General Motors, but that's the general idea." Charlie nodded. "The AFL is fighting this one pretty hard, too. They don't like the new CAFÉ standards but mandating 38 miles per gallon was the only way that liberal Democrats wouldn't foist a carbon tax amendment on the Bill."

The President stood there thinking for a second before opening his mouth again. "Senator Todd is the ranking Republican on the Senate Commerce Committee as well as being the NRSC chairman for this cycle, right?"

"Yes, sir." Gunny nodded again.

"I want to see Senator Todd in my office by two o'clock. Think you can do that?" The President looked to his Chief of Staff.

"I serve at the pleasure of the President." Gunny replied.

1640 ZULU

ST. GREG'S

WASHINGTON, D.C.

She'd gotten Tim involved in the Drama program much to the unending amusement of his brothers. This year Drama was doing a production of the Disney version of _Robin Hood._ Of course, because of her longstanding position in the Drama's past productions, Sasha was immediately considered for the role of Maid Marian, a role which she had earned. Tim had been given the role of Alan-a-Dale, the minstrel who, in the Disney movie, had been portrayed by a rooster. This lead to another serious of endless "cock" jokes by Brad and Jack.

Nevertheless, giving one of scant few singing roles in the play to a young man who was just starting to go through puberty was probably not the best decision on the director's part. But Sasha had been working with him, she'd had to sing before in plays and she'd had to adopt a different voice to play the Wicked Witch of the West. Getting Tim on pitch to sing the opening number titled _Oo-De-Lally _was proving to be a chore if ever there was one.

As third period concluded, everyone headed to the cafeteria for lunch time. Of course, perhaps the saving grace for Tim was that the play was almost a month away whereas the opening game of baseball season was tonight and his brother would be pitching in front of what was expected to be a sold out crowd. Still, she had him singing their whole way into the cafeteria. The fact that Brad and Jack overheard him just led to more laughter when they reached the table. "There's our Puny Pavarotti." Brad jested as he tossed a potato chip at Tim.

"Hey, ease off the boy, Brad. You've been known to sing yourself from time to time." Jack popped his brother on the shoulder.

"Yeah, but that's only in the shower." Brad retorted as Jimmy Roberts walked over to the table. "And there's the good Friar Tuck." Brad addressed Jimmy who'd been rewarded with his own part in the play.

"See, now why don't you pick on _him_ for being in the play?" Tim questioned his brothers.

"He plays a drunken priest." Jack explained. "You play a singing cock."

"That sounds like an adult movie title." Brad chuckled. "The Singing Cock."

"His character isn't a……rooster, in this version, Jack." Sasha corrected with a quick glare. "Shouldn't you be butting heads with your jock friends to get ready for tonight's game?"

"I'm always ready to play." Brad rebutted quickly. A quick silence fell over the table as Lucy walked over and tapped Brad on the shoulder.

"Can we talk?" She asked in a whisper. He nodded and got up from the table. The two of them headed out of the cafeteria and down the hall. Everyone sat there looking at each other with a curious expression. Lucy hadn't been around a lot lately as hockey season came to an end and baseball training camp started up. It seemed as if the school only had three seasons now; football season, hockey season and baseball season.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Sasha whispered to Tim.

"Could be anything. She's graduating in two months; he's starting the season opening baseball game tonight. Maybe she just wanted a kiss, how the hell should I know?" He shrugged.

"Okay, okay, no need to get snippy." Sasha lifted her hands to signal retreat. The door to the cafeteria thundered open and slammed against the door stop as Brad re-entered. Brad walked over, grabbed his lunch and headed back out of the cafeteria. "Well, whatever happened, his mood certainly did a one-eighty."

"Well, that'll make tonight's game more entertaining." Jack commented. "I've seen Brad throw an incredible fastball when he's happy. I wouldn't want to be the catcher tonight now that Brad's pissed."

"I wouldn't want to be the other team." Tim added.

"I think you both ought to be ashamed of yourselves." Sasha got up from the table. "She obviously said something to your brother that made him really upset and all you two can talk about is how he's going to pitch tonight." She headed out of the cafeteria to go look for her friend. She walked down the hallway trying to find him until she heard the sound of a loud crash against a locker. She stopped for a second and waited to hear the noise again. The crash followed soon after from just to her left. It was the boy's locker room. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door. She turned to her left again and saw a baseball whiz passed her head and into a row of lockers. "Brad?" She chanced.

"Sasha?" He replied, his voice weak and broken. He whipped the ball at the locker again and waited for it to roll back.

"You mind not hurling the ball for a second?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest and he put the ball back in his own locker. She sat on the bench in the middle of the room and gave a pat to the spot on the bench next to her. He shook his head and slumped back against the locker, eventually sinking to the floor. "What happened?"

"Nicely put, she broke up with me." He answered, mumbling into his chest.

"What's the not nice way of saying that?" She inquired.

"The 'B' word is involved several times." He responded again. "I don't know what the hell happened. I mean, we've been going out for two years and I don't think I did anything wrong; at least lately."

"Maybe it had just run its course." She asked.

"Yeah, maybe." He pulled the ball out of his locker and began to smack it against the inside leather of his glove. "Just would have been nice to haven't gotten some advanced warning. At least in baseball, the manager sends out the pitching coach a few times."

"Yeah, well there are more then sixty girls between our grade and the grade eights; at least one of them is going to be the next one for you." She tried to console him. "Honestly, I never thought Lucy was good enough for you anyway."

"See, and I thought she was pretty damn good." Brad answered with a half smile. "Y'ever think maybe I should just stop chasing the shortest skirt that comes along?"

"Yeah, but you won't." She joked. "I _do_ think you should stop dating women who come into the relationship thinking you walk on water."

"Why's that?" Brad got up off the floor and sat next to her.

"Unrealistic expectations." Sasha answered. "We're all human, and if you date girls who think you're god's gift to preteens, the second they see a flaw, they'll seize on it."

"I'm a pretty good athlete, ya know?" He gave her a sly smile.

"And pretty smart if you study, and reasonably cute but we all have flaws." She put a hand on his back. "You're a good friend and an even better pitcher. So, channel some of that anger, go out and pitch one hell of a game tonight. Being the school hero tomorrow will be the greatest way to get back at Lucy."

"You're way too smart you know that?" He got off the bench with her next to him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick side-along hug. "So, what's it like for a girl to be in the boy's locker room?"

"It's dirtier than ours." Sasha looked around. "But there are more actual lockers."

"Yeah, well trust me, at game time, it likely smells hellishly worse." Brad chuckled. "So, does this mean if you snap and retreat into the girl's locker room. I can follow you in to help you?"

"No, because I'll never get you _out _of there." She laughed and the two of them headed back to the cafeteria.

1713 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Senator Ned Todd was the Senior Senator from Nebraska, the ranking member on the Senate Commerce Committee and the chairman of the National Republican Senatorial Committee for the 2016 cycle. He walked into the Oval Office for what was only his second meeting one on one meeting with the President in six and a half years. "Ned, nice to see you again." The President stepped out from behind the desk and shook the Senator's hand. "I guess you know why you're here."

"Yes, sir. You need four votes on the Environment bill and I've got them from Republicans on the Commerce committee. The only question I have, Mr. President, is why should I hand you a political victory?" The Senator took a seat.

"I suppose I can skip over the fact that this bill would mean jobs for Nebraskans because your state has one of the most developed ethanol and wind energy industrial sectors in the country and go right to the fact that I'm the President of the United States and it's good for my office and yours to be on congenial terms." The President took a seat opposite the Senior Senator from Nebraska.

"Mr. President, I'm a Republican not a Democrat, there are no political ramifications of my breaking ranks with you because I'm not in league with you." Ned Todd explained. "So, you're gonna have to give me a real reason."

"You're the chairman of the Republican Senate campaign for the coming election cycle, right?" The President intertwined his fingers as the Senator nodded. "I imagine you guys really want to keep Norm Coles' seat in Virginia now that he's retiring."

"It's crossed my mind, sir, yes." Senator Todd answered. "What are you getting to?"

"What if I told you that I had knowledge of a strong candidate who could likely hold the seat for you guys? In exchange, I would need help with the passage of this bill." The President offered. "Hypothetically, of course."

"Hypothetically, sir, I'd say that we might be able to come to some kind of accord. But wouldn't this ruffle a lot of feathers over at the DNC?" Senator Todd seemed slightly confused.

"Yeah, it will. But there's a good chance that I would have a good man in the Senate then another Democrat." The President answered and the door opened to the Oval Office. "Ah, good afternoon, Mr. Chairman."

Harm walked into the Oval Office to find the President already in a meeting. "Mr. President, I can come back if that would be better."

"No, not at all, Harm." The President waved him further into his office. "Admiral Harmon Rabb, Senator Ned Todd."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Chairman." The Senator shook Harm's hand.

"And you, Senator Todd." Harm nodded. "Mr. President, I brought those latest estimates for the F-24. Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Yeah." The President and Harm headed over toward the door that led to the Chief of Staff's office. "So, is this really about the cost estimates of the F-24 or are you just trying to get up to speed?"

"Trying to get up to speed." Harm answered. "Why am I sitting in on a meeting with a Senator that doesn't sit on the Foreign Relations or Armed Services committees?"

"You remember three years ago when I told you that you were way too honourable and too good to not put your character to real use in this town?" The President asked. "Senator Todd is the Chairman of the National Republican Senatorial Committee; I think you should hear him out because he could help you out in a campaign for the open Senate seat in Virginia next year."

"Mr. President, I don't like being politically ambushed like this." Harm whispered through gritted teeth.

"You'll hear him out?" The President asked. Harm hesitated, considering just what the President was asking of him.

"Yeah." Harm nodded and he and the President headed back to the middle of the room.

"Ned, you remember that prospective candidate I was telling you about?" The President questioned. "Meet, Admiral Harmon Rabb." The Senator looked taken aback.

"So, you're interested in running for the Senate?" Senator Todd asked as he started his selling bit on Harm.

1920 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Gunny sat in his office just trying to get five minutes away from the hell that was becoming Capitol Hill during election season. The Democrats wouldn't be defending the most Senate seats for once in the last three election cycles. There were two open seats due to two retiring Senators. The First Lady would be running to replace Senator Keane in Pennsylvania and if all went according to plan, Admiral Rabb would be the Republican nominee to replace Senator Coles as the Senator from Virginia. Forty-five seconds of peace, the longest break in the whole day.

"Senator Heiden to see you, sir." A voice chirped through Gunny's intercom.

"Send him in." Gunny eventually relented. The door opened and the large frame Senator John Heiden entered the office of the Chief of Staff. "John, good to see you. How's the recruiting coming?"

"Almost got every race filled. Now, I'm spending my days trying to clear the field in some of our more competitive races so that our most qualified moderate candidate gets nominated." John threw himself down in the chair.

"What race is giving you the most trouble?" Gunny asked.

"Rossi in New Mexico. Every time he comes up for election we get some three term Congressman to run against him and he cleans their clock. I can't think of a single thing more redundant than a New Mexico Senatorial race anyway." Heiden grumbled. "Every time Rossi is up for re-election he gets re-elected 60-40 and every time Ordonez is up for re-election, he gets re-elected 60-40."

"Wasn't he caught up in that land development graft scandal a couple of months back?" Gunny questioned. "He told reporters it was just another 'pork-barrel project'."

"Yeah, that's him. Our internal polling shows that he's only got a forty-seven percent approval rating but because he's so thoroughly thumped every Democrat he's faced in the past, no one wants to go near this race on our side of the aisle." Heiden settled himself into the chair a little better. "Say, you're from New Mexico, right?"

"Yeah but what does that…" Gunny started and then thought for a second. "No." He shook his head from side to side. "I'm not running against Rossi."

"Come on, you're the ideal candidate. You're young, you were a Marine, you were the Chief of Staff to the President of the United States and New Mexico's a state with a growing Hispanic population that deserves Hispanic representation." Heiden argued. "You're the perfect Democrat for this race."

"I didn't become Chief of Staff to the President because I'm a politician. I got this job because the President picked me. I didn't want it, and a part of me is really looking forward to getting the hell out of here once the eight years is up." Gunny chortled lightly. "I want to maybe buy a nice house in Arlington, get a good job, and settle down with Stacy and daughter."

"I'm just asking you to think about it because God knows we could use you." John Heiden gave a pat to the armrests of his chair. The Senator stood up and headed for the door. "You think the President will get those three votes on the Environment bill so that I can call Connie Playfair and have her come back in to put us over the top?"

"I think we've got four, John." Gunny said confidently and the Senator left the office with a great smile upon his face. Gunny lounged back in his chair for a second and closed his eyes. The door to his office clicked open again and he opened one eye to see the pleasing sight of his significant other coming in to greet him. "So, what's your first week back from maternity leave been like?"

"Still trying to remember if it was this hectic before I left." She laughed lightly as she took a seat opposite him. "Let me tell you, the best thing the First Lady ever did was lobby the House Reform and Government Oversight Committee for the funding to set up an on site daycare here at the White House."

"Yeah." Gunny nodded thoughtfully.

"So, did I just see John Heiden leave your office?" She asked. "What did he want?"

"To try and convince me to run for the Democrats in the New Mexico Senate race." Gunny laughed lightly until he saw the serious look on her face. "No." He stated for the second time in like five minutes.

"No one would have more experience than you." She countered.

"When I'm done here, I want to buy a nice house in Arlington where we can live and get a good job somewhere." He explained.

"Do you know the kind of job offers you'll get when you leave here? Corporate boards of directors, executive vice-presidencies of some Fortune 500 somewhere. You know, the kind of job where you work two days a week and spend the rest of the time golfing or in a sports stadium somewhere." She leaned forward. "I know you, that kind of work would drive you slowly but surely insane. At least in the Senate you'd be doing actual work and helping people."

"I'm no politician." He countered.

"You've been White House Chief of Staff for more then six years. You don't get to use that argument any more, honey." She smiled at him fondly. "Besides, going back to New Mexico, we'll be closer to your family."

"Yeah, that way mom can just come over everyday." Gunny rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"And that's really different from her just flying out and staying with us for two months, how?" Stacy joked. "You're a good man, with a good heart. The Senate needs good men like you. Hell, the President thought enough of you to offer you the Vice Presidency a couple years ago. I think if you go back, and I help run your campaign, you'd be elected to the Senate."

"So, you're in favour of this?" He checked to be sure.

"I'm in favour of whatever makes you happy." She answered.

2304 ZULU

ST. GREG'S

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Whatever Sasha said to Brad Ross before the game had certainly worked wonders. Brad was normally a good control pitcher who could be counted on to throw about seven strikeouts and work about seven innings. But tonight he was pitching like a man possessed. It was the top of the ninth inning, with one out and St. Greg's was up 2-0. In eight and one third inning of work, Brad had thrown sixteen strikeouts and given up only two hits. Sasha sat in the front row with Tim, Jack and Jimmy watching the game. A few high school athletics scouts ducked into the row behind them just as the next batter stepped up to the plate.

"How's he been throwing?" The scout asked the person next to him.

"I've never seen a thirteen year-old pitch like this." The person answered.

"What are the stats?" The scout questioned.

"Eight and a third innings pitched, sixteen strikeouts, two hits and 88 pitches." The man answered and the scout sat there silent. The diamond fell silent as Brad looked into home plate for the sign. He nodded and went back into his wind-up. He brought his arm forward with a mighty fury and burned a fastball over the low outside corner of the strike zone for strike one. The catcher tossed the ball back and Brad exhaled heavily. He leaned in for the next sign. He nodded and went back into his wind up. His arm came forward again and a terrifying slider came toward the strike zone and the batter took a big swing at it. The ball broke inside at the last minute and was called for strike two. The catcher tossed the ball back again. Brad didn't even need to look in for the signal, he knew what he was going to throw. He went back into his wind up and roared forward with another fastball on the outside corner that was swung on and missed for Brad's seventeenth strikeout. Brad was exhaling hard.

"What's that mark on the outside of his glove?" The scout muttered.

"It's the autograph of his favourite pitcher." Sasha looked over her shoulder and answered his question. "When the Red Sox came to Camden Yards way back, his dad got him Josh Beckett's autograph and so Brad always wears that glove when he pitches."

Brad adjusted the brim of his cap and looked in at home plate. He let out a hard breath. He looked in for a sign and nodded again. The pitch came forward as a curveball that missed the bottom of the strike zone for ball one. Brad shook his head as the ball was tossed back to him. He nodded at the first signal and hurled a split-seam fastball into home plate that spun at the end away from the swing of the batter. He got strike one. He was liking the fastball. He nodded for the signal again and threw another fastball over the plate. The batter got a hold of it but fouled the ball off down the right field line.

Brad's shoulder was starting to hurt like a bitch. He figured he had one, maybe two more pitches in him, so he'd better end the game here and now. He waited for the right signal. He finally saw it but he didn't need to really go into a wind up for this pitch. He dug his fingernails into the surface of the ball and tossed a knuckleball into home plate. The ball slowed right down as it reached the plate and it dropped like a lead balloon into the catcher's mitt for strike three. Brad mocked falling to the ground in exhaustion as the team rushed the pitcher's mound and hoisted him back up on to his feet.

Brad looked around at the three hundred or so people who had attended the game and every last one of them was standing and applauding the young pitcher. Brad lifted his cap to the crowd and smiled widely as his friends from the school walked on to the field to join him. His brothers gave him big bear hugs and Sasha gave him one too.

"You're gonna be a hero tomorrow." She whispered in his ear amidst all the cheering and the shouting.

"I could kiss you right now for what you said this afternoon." He told her with a wide smile on his face. "But I think after eighteen strikeouts, I might be testing my luck."

"Pretty safe bet." She answered while laughing.

0334 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

GREAT FALLS, VIRGINIA

Harmon Rabb sat on the edge of his bed staring down at his feet. He couldn't believe the day he'd just had. Senator Ned Todd was a pretty amiable guy with a pleasant Midwestern twang and a good sales pitch. Harm couldn't deny that he was tempted. He'd had a talk with the President who'd given him some very sage advice and Senator Todd had laid out a very sound strategy. But there were a lot of questions. After all these years of making fun of politicians, did he actually want to become one?

Mac walked into the bedroom to find her husband in a pose closely resembling a Greek philosopher. "You look like you're lost in your own mind."

"I was just petitioned to run for Congress today." Harm looked into the eyes of his wife. "The open Virginia Senate seat to be honest."

"What did you say?" Mac asked as she sat next to him on the bed and put a hand on his back.

"I said I'd think about it." Harm answered. "I don't know what the hell to do, Mac. I mean, other then talk with you about it. I can't say I'm not interested but the idea of the leaving the Navy to join the Senate?"

"Harm, where do you think you can do more good? Be honest. In less then two years, this President is leaving power and a new one is coming in. New Presidents almost always bring in new guys. Maybe, if Danny Proper wins, you get to stay on for another year, but what happens after that?" Mac questioned. "You sit around waiting for someone to make you Secretary of Defence or the National Security Advisor? That's not you."

"The only part of it I don't like is the actual election part." Harm laughed caustically. "Campaigning just seems like disingenuous art form to me. It's like an exercise in being phoney."

"You've got to ask yourself, Harm." She gave him a big hug. "Is the amount of good you could do in the Senate worth the little bit of hurt it would take to get elected?" Harm thought for a second. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to walk into the NRSC office tomorrow and ask them just how we go about running a Senate campaign in Virginia." Harm answered and he gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "So, is it hotter to be a Senator or the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs?"

"Well, being Chairman is pretty sexy." Mac taunted flirtatiously. "You're going to have to be in the Senate a long time to get that title again."


	77. New Deeds for New

"_What old people say you cannot do, you try and find that you can. Old __deeds__ for old people, and __**new**__**deeds**__** for **__**new**__" – Henry David Thoreau_

_April 2016_

It had been a rougher year at St. Greg's this year. It had started off with a petition to prevent Brad from playing hockey at the school level. The other schools had launched it under the premise that Brad's playing gave St. Greg's an unfair competitive advantage. So, rather then let the whole thing cause a big stir, Brad took up a chance to play with the United States National Team Development Program. He was the youngest kid to ever take up that chance. Of course, with their star athlete out of town at international hockey tournaments, the athletic department felt the pinch.

The football team didn't seem to really feel it all that badly. With their returning star quarterback and most of their offense from last year's state championship still in place, the team went on to a 7-1 record in the regular season and a third consecutive state championship. However, Jack had decided that a state football championship was enough to focus on one sport and he stopped playing hockey. So, without their leading scorer and best defenseman, the team went down in flames, finishing second last in the city and failing to make the playoffs.

The buzz was around the baseball team. Training camp was coming to an end and the buzz was all around whether the team's pitching ace would be back in time from the Under Eighteen World Championship of Hockey to pitch in the opening game. A lot of the kids were talking about it. One had to remember that a lot of the kids in the school hadn't had the chance to meet or know Brad Ross this year because he'd been on the road with Team USA hockey for the last seven months.

Sasha wondered just how amazing it was that after not seeing someone for seven months, how you found yourself looking at pictures of them just so you could remember exactly what they looked like. The school's biggest theatre production to date was going to have its debut next month and Sasha was going to spend the next month in the front office doing announcements for the play. She was looking down at a piece of paper carefully memorizing what she was supposed to read. After the first bell of the day, the school usually played a version of the _Ave Maria_ until the last bell.

The door to the office opened and Sasha looked up to see a familiar face. She let out an unexpected squeak of joy and he placed a finger in front of his lips to indicate for her to stay quiet. He hurdled over the desk toward the CD player that was hooked up to the PA system. He took out the _Ave Maria_ and replaced it with _We're Not Gonna Take It Any More!_

"What are you doing? Are you nuts?" She lectured him through gritted teeth.

"See, now we have to run." He took her by the hand and they had to run out of the office while being chased by the Principal and Father Harrigan. Sasha and Brad ran down the stairs. He dashed around the corner and pulled the two of them out of sight and into a janitor's closet. They stood silent waiting to hear the rapid footsteps stop. She was pressed up against his chest looking up at his face. "Nice to see you again."

"You piss off the Principal and the Priest; involve me in a high speed foot chase and all you have to see is how nice it is to see me?" She questioned in a terse whisper.

"Hey, be nice to me, I'm a gold medallist." Brad smiled at her. "You know, you're a lot more beautiful then I remembered." He brushed a loose strand of hair from her face and all of a sudden she was very glad she was leaning on him.

"You're not getting off that easy." She cautioned.

"I'm gonna try very hard not to make a joke about that." He answered with another beaming smile. "I wasn't just pandering earlier, you look _really _good." She stood there stunned. Was Bradley Ross, soon to be fourteen and now an International Hockey Gold Medallist hitting on her? She tried to hide the blush that came to her cheeks as they left the janitor's closet. Brad looked up to see the Principal and Father Harrigan walking back toward them.

"Miss Rabb, Mr. Ross, what were the two of you doing in the janitor's closet?" The Principal asked and Sasha stammered so Brad took over.

"Oh, a quarter fell out of my pocket and rolled under the door, Sasha went in to help me find it and the door shut behind us." Brad answered convincingly.

"I see." The Principal still sounded suspicious. "Miss Rabb didn't you see who changed the music in the main office."

"No, sir." Sasha answered, finally getting her legs back. "I just went to chase after them when I ran into Brad here."

"I see." The Principal answered again. "Mr. Ross, we have a dress code here and it does not include hockey jerseys or gold medals." The Principal indicated Brad's attire.

"Come on, Mr. Lauer; give me a break I just flew in on the red eye from Milan." Brad responded.

"Just the same, Mr. Ross. I expect to see you in proper uniform by lunch."

1416 ZULU

RABB FOR SENATE HQ

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"Alright, I need more lawn signs at our Norfolk office!" A man shouted from the phone bank. "I need more fundraising dates in Arlington, Great Falls and Richmond." Harm walked into the office to find the place in what he was sure was the Republican contribution to chaos theory. Suddenly all the action came to a grinding halt. "Ladies and gentlemen, Admiral Harmon Rabb!"

Harm raised his hand to wave and nodded appreciatively at what was apparently his campaign staff. "Thank you, everyone." Harm announced to the crowd. "I'm uh, sure that I'll get to know many of you over the coming months since a lot of you didn't work for me during the primary. I want to thank you all for pitching in."

There was a short burst of applause when Harm eventually pulled the "ring-leader" aside. "Can I ask who you are and why you seem to be directing traffic around here?"

"I'm Dusty Drake, the NRSC sent me because I used to run Norm Coles' campaigns in Virginia and I know the lay of the land." The short man answered. He lightly stroked his goatee. "You and I were eventually going to have to have this conversation, would you mind if we stepped into your office." Dusty motioned for the door. The two of them stepped inside. "First, we should probably get to know each other. I'm Dustin Jeremy Drake; I'm from Summersville, West Virginia, I was First Lieutenant in the Army and after that I got a Master's degree in American politics from GW and became a research fellow at the Heritage Institute. After two years, I couldn't stand Heritage any more so I joined Senator Coles' staff while he was still a Congressman. Once he started running for Senate, I started running his campaigns and eventually the NRSC offered me more money and the Senator told me to take it." Dusty took a deep breath.

"How many elections did Senator Coles win?" Harm double-checked.

"Three for Senate, two in the House after I joined his staff." Dusty answered with a crooked smile. "There are two ways for a Republican to win Virginia, one is fool-proof the other isn't. The first way is that you capture Independents, Virginia's are the most politically volatile. You move to center, grab the Independents and walk away with the election, there's no where for the Democrats to go. Or, you go into rural Virginia and you energize the base and just try and generate voter turnout. It's risky but if you identify with that section of the Party, then we can do that. But you've got mountains of credibility with Independents and Democrats because you served in the Ross administration."

"Well, I kind of thought a campaign mostly involved me talking to people about my views on the issues that matter to them." Harm added, still slightly suspicious of the political operative.

"That's still part of it, but it's not really the ballgame any more." Dusty exhaled heavily. "There are a lot of things about campaigning I can tell you're not gonna like. Hell, there's a lot about campaigning that professional politicians don't like but you've got to think of those parts like pulling a band-aid off your leg. You minimize pain by getting it over as fast as possible."

"What parts of politicking would this be?" Harm inquired.

"Fundraising mostly." Dusty put his hand on his shoulder and stretched his arm out to loosen it up. "You're gonna have to attend a lot of $700 a plate fundraisers that are only going to be attended by a bunch of stuck up rich people that you're not going to have anything in common with. Through all this, just observe on rule."

"And that rule is?" Harm asked again.

"If you can't drink their booze, take their money and then vote against them, then you're in the wrong business." Dusty laughed.

"That doesn't seem a little dishonest to you?" Harm suddenly felt a little uneasy.

"Admiral Rabb, there are about two things I'm good for. Telling jokes and winning elections. See, I can tell from the last five minutes that we've been talking that whoever recommended you to the RNC obviously knew you were a good man and would make a damn fine Senator. You can count on me to tell you the truth, no matter what the result. The rest of your campaign staff is gonna be hesitant to do that because they're all gonna want jobs in your Senate office if you get elected. My only motivation is to win this election so, I've got no reason to lie to you." Dusty dropped his laugh act.

"You know, I think we'll get along because there aren't that many honest men left in politics." Harm chortled to himself.

"Ain't that the truth." Dusty shook Harm's hand. "Now, you've got a 12:00 pancake lunch at the Manassas VFW and then a 2:00 strategy session. You're also going to need to promote an executive assistant from within the campaign staff. The advance team will send me a copy of your schedule every night. I'll look it over, make any corrections I think need to be made and then I'll send it along to you. You can talk to me about any touch ups you want made and then everything will be firmed up for the next day's events. We've got seven months until the election, let's get moving."

1701 ZULU

ST.GREG'S

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Sasha and her friend Janie were walking back to their lockers after class. "Brad Ross is back." Sasha stated seemingly out of nowhere.

"Okay, this matters why?" Janie looked at her friend.

"He looks…good." She kept going. "Damn it!"

"Alright, what's going on?" Janie and Sasha started walking down the hallway.

"I don't know, I've spent a few years liking Tim in that way and trying to hint at him that I'd kind of like to be his girlfriend but he really doesn't seem interested." She leaned back against the locker again. "Then Brad comes back this morning, he walks in on the morning announcements, puts 80s hair metal on the PA and tells me how beautiful I look."

"So, you're attracted to him?" Janie asked. "Join the group, we had jackets made."

"No, it's more then that." Sasha shook her head. "It's complicated, okay. I've never thought of him like this before. But……oh, I don't know."

"It's not tough, you're physically attracted to him. So, pull him into an empty classroom today and kiss him to see if there's anything there or if you're just trying to make Tim jealous enough to act." Janie suggested. "We're teens; our hormones were bound to win out eventually anyway." The two of them continued their walk to the cafeteria when Janie pointed out the empty music classroom that was en route. Sasha stood there for a second considering just what her friend had suggested. Could she really just grab one of her oldest friends and kiss him? She found herself inadvertently following through on Janie's plan as she stood outside the door to the empty room.

As Brad came walking by, she grabbed him lightly by the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him into the room. As the two of them walked into the room, she closed the door behind them. Oh hell, how was she going to do this? No boy had ever even kissed her before how was she going to kiss one? Well, she was going to do what her mom would tell her to do, be a Marine and just storm the beach! She took two steps back toward him and pushed him back against the door before just pressing her lips to his.

After being surprised – to be honest, fucking near shocked right out of his shoes – Brad kind of took over. His left hand moved slowly up her back as the index finger on his right slipped slowly under her the bottom of her shirt to lightly tickle her hip. She smiled against his mouth as the two of them continued her little dance. This certainly wasn't making anything easier for her. She had to remember that he'd actually been in a middle school "relationship" for two years, he actually knew how to kiss……did he ever know how to kiss. She felt like she was floating. She looked down to realize that the combination of his height and strength had actually cause her feet to leave the ground, so technically she was floating, even if it was caused by being lifted by his left arm.

Eventually the kiss broke. A part of her wanted to avoid looking at him because she was sure she had a dreamy look on her face. "See, now that was the kind of 'welcome home' I was hoping for this morning." He joked. "Now are you going to tell me what the hell that was or do you just want to do it again?"

"I don't know, when we were in the closet this morning, I just felt something and I wanted to see what it was." She answered with a dismissive shrug.

"Okay, well there are a few problems with that, the first of which is that my brother likes you." Brad started.

"He's never said or done anything." Sasha countered, although a little shocked that Brad was so willing to clearly establish that fact.

"Doesn't matter, in my brother's mind he's always just so close to finally asking you and he's my brother, Sash, I couldn't do this to him." Brad slumped against the door. "Then there's the fact that we're friends, and I know from going through the whole Lucy thing last year that a break-up almost always kills friendship. I don't want that to happen here."

"Yeah." She nodded, that was one point she had no trouble understanding.

"Last, I hate to say that my mom's right but she is, I'm too immature for serious crap like this." Brad answered. "I just wanna have fun." He paused and thought for a second how insensitive he was starting to sound. "Just for the record, if I was looking for a girlfriend," he looked at her appreciatively, "God damn, girl." She giggled lightly. Brad gave her a smile and headed for the door. When it shut behind him, she was just a girl left with her emotions; dangerous things for a girl to be left alone with. She was divided into three parts really. One part was happy that she'd had these feelings for someone who was mature enough to actually talk with her. Another part was angry that Brad had used Tim as one of his reasons for not liking her that way. Yet, she couldn't help but feeling the slightest bit rejected. Try though he did to soften that by the last comment he made, she still felt it. It wasn't very strong and she knew she could easily move past it.

She headed into the cafeteria to see Brad in his Team USA jersey and gold medal holding court with a bunch of younger students. Their eyes were wide as Brad told them about going to hockey tournaments in Canada and Italy and Minnesota, and what it was like to skate on the same ice where the 'Miracle on Ice' had happened back in 1980. Okay, so maybe it would take her two days to kill that little rejection part.

1750 ZULU

GALINDEZ FOR SENATE HQ

SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO

"Mr. Galindez, a Charlie Scott on the phone for you, sir." Gunny's assistant chimed as he walked in. The Democratic Primary in New Mexico wasn't scheduled to be held until late June, and Gunny's sole competition was a two-term Democratic Attorney General. But in a state where the President had a 59 percent approval rating, in a state where the majority of Democratic voters were Hispanic and many of that number were union members, it was unlikely that Gunny would lose a primary to a stuffed shirt Attorney General from Albuquerque.

Gunny headed into his office and picked up the phone. "How are things back at the ranch, Charlie?" Gunny cheered into the phone.

"Not as much fun without you, boss." Charlie answered. "I just called to check up on your situation. How much staff have you got hired?"

"Hardly anybody." Gunny answered.

"Get in touch with your local AFSCME union, that normally works luring away good talent. And get Stacy to talk with the Santa Fe NARAL chapter, they're normally deep enough in political talent that you'll be able to hire a good chief political advisor." Charlie advised. "You need to get these people in place before you take on Rossi or he'll eat you alive."

"Thanks, buddy." Gunny made a few quick notes and tossed the pad to Stacy. "How's the new Chief of Staff settling in?"

"Well, Mike Bradley's certainly got his own way of doing things." Charlie commented wearily. "I guess it comes from knowing the President longer then any one of us though. I honestly thought I'd get more time to check in with you and Mrs. Ross to make sure your campaigns are on the right track."

"Anything new at the shop?" Gunny took a seat behind his desk and pulled his jacket down off his shoulders.

"Kat left last week to join the Proper Campaign." Charlie huffed.

"Yeah well, Danny took it on the chin on Super Tuesday. He's gonna have to rally hard on Tuesday in order to have any chance of beating Governor Harder for the nomination." Gunny kicked back a bit. "Kat's got a lot of smarts and she'll help him get his shit together in time to make a real sprint to the finish line."

"Admiral Baxter was finally confirmed as Admiral Rabb's replacement as JCS Chairman." Charlie added. "Small development but things around here are pretty much operating smoothly."

"The DNC Chairman must be breathing down the boss's neck about what happens if there's a nomination fight at the convention." Gunny chuckled to himself again. "Any suggestions about how to bring in talent from the other campaign once the primary is over."

"Yeah, carefully." Charlie responded. "Just hire the mercenaries, the guys that join a campaign just for the campaigning. Everyone else is going to hate you because you beat them. Make sure your Communications Director has almost dictatorial control over the message coming from the campaign because Rossi's staff is good and they'll jump on the slightest gaffe or misstep."

"Well no worries there, you want to speak to my Communications Director?" Gunny motioned for Stacy and his daughter to join him in his office. "I think you know her."

"Hey, Charlie." Stacy took the phone. "No, he's still acting like that." She responded to Charlie's question. "Yeah, I think he'll get on just fantastic in the Senate."

"Claudia, would you like to say hello to your Uncle Charlie?" Gunny asked his daughter who was sitting in a chair opposite him. She nodded enthusiastically and reached up to take the phone from her mother. She was the cutest little thing; she looked like a dark-haired Hispanic version of her mother. She had the sweetest smile and it was beaming as she took the phone from her mom.

"Hi, Unca Charlie." She greeted.

2355 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

"Come on, kiddo." Nate had dashed into the residence from the West Wing after a cancelled appointment. "I've got an open hour, let's head out on to the South Lawn and toss the ball around." Nate tossed Brad his ball glove. Brad got up from his desk chair in front of his computer and hustled out of the White House with his dad. Nate took off his jacket and handed it to the Secret Service as he tossed the ball to his son. "How'd you do in your last tournament?"

"Five goals and 12 assists in ten games for a gold medal." Brad grinned from ear to ear. "Apparently, I'm good."

"Yeah, apparently." Nate smiled to himself. "Beats the hell out of me how it happened. I played sports but wasn't very good and the only school team your mother every made was volleyball."

"I'm just a hell of an athlete." Brad answered as his dad lowered into a crouch to look like a catcher. Brad went into a wind up and threw a fastball to his dad. The President caught the ball, wincing slightly as it impacted against his palm. "So, Sasha kissed me today."

"Sasha Rabb?" Nate questioned. "You didn't tell your brother did you?"

"As much as I may like torturing my brothers, there are limits, dad." Brad caught the ball that was tossed back to him.

"What did you do?" Nate asked his son as Brad sailed a curveball into his glove.

"I told her that she needed to talk to Tim, I told her that we were friends and I didn't want to end up not being her friend if something happened and I said that I just didn't want a girlfriend right now." Brad caught the ball again as it was thrown back. "She's hot though."

"So, you like her?" Nate questioned, unsure of what his son was getting at.

"Dad, there's a difference between thinking a girl is hot and liking her." Brad hurled a slider in toward his dad.

"Yeah, I know, that's why I was asking." Nate countered as he threw the ball back. "Brad, you're a good kid, you know that?"

"Always good to hear, dad." Brad answered with a smile. "I think she still has feelings for Tim, it was right to brush her off, right?"

"Yeah." Nate nodded as Brad hurled a split-seam fastball at his dad. "Though, knowing her mother, she comes by this kind of romantic confusion honestly."

"What do you mean, dad?" Brad looked slightly confused.

"Never mind." Nate tossed the ball back to his son. "Come on, Brad bring on the heat." Brad hunched over and pretended to look in for the signal. He nodded just like he would during the game and went into his wind up. He burned a fastball into his father's glove.

"Goddamn it, Brad." Nate tossed the glove off and began to rub his palm.

"You told me to throw a fastball!" Brad protested.

"I thought you'd take into account that I'm an old man and go easy on me." Nate laughed sarcastically as he continued rubbing his palm. "Well, your control has slipped a little in the off season but your fastball is a lot faster."

"Might get a no-no this season." Brad chirped as his dad slid the glove back on and tossed the ball back. "Dad, when I was done explaining to Sasha all the reasons why I absolutely couldn't date her, I still felt the need to tell her that I find her hot. Why?"

"Brad, as your father, I love giving you advice but on this one I have absolutely no damn idea." Nate laughed. "At your age, I was notoriously bad with girls, ask your grandmother. I got slapped more times then a peeping tom in a woman's spinning class. If I had a guess, I'd say that a part of you really likes her and you were trying to keep her as happy as possible."

"You think I may want to date her eventually?" Brad looked confused again. "I guess, I mean maybe."

"Here's thing, Brad. Don't tell Tim. I know that as your father I'm supposed to tell you that you should always be honest with your brothers and that lying is wrong. And you should always be honest with your brothers and lying _is_ wrong but you and Tim have already gotten into a fight where Sasha Rabb was involved and Tim looked like he kissed a freight train. Telling him will only lead to another fight and as your father; I consider one of my biggest duties to be preventing you and your brother from beating the hell out of each other because of a girl." Nate instructed. "Let those two sort out whatever it is between them, then give it time. If they're sorted out and she's not dating Tim and you still like her, then go for it."

"I'm still not sure I like her that way." Brad replied.

"Well, then you're the only one." Nate commented.

0202 ZULU

RABB RESIDENCE

GREAT FALLS, VIRGINIA

"Sounding good, sweetie." Mac poked her head in her daughter's room when she heard her practising for next month's big play.

"No mom, I'm slightly off pitch." She huffed and threw herself down on the bed. "I have been all day."

"What's wrong?" Mac walked in and sat on the edge of the bed next to her daughter.

"Mom, I think I did something really stupid." Sasha groaned. "Brad came back from Italy this morning and walked in on me just before the announcements. Long story short, he kind of flirted with me a bit and it got to me. So, I was walking around all this morning thinking about it and at lunch, I pulled him into the music classroom and kissed him." Sasha had said the last part as quickly as possible in a hope to just get through it.

"Okay." Mac nodded, comprehending slowly. "Was it your first?"

"Yeah." Sasha nodded sheepishly. "And I kind of liked it."

"That's perfectly normal, honey." Mac answered with a fond smile. "Why does this have you frazzled?"

"Because I shouldn't have kissed him!" Sasha launched herself up off the bed. "I mean, I've liked his brother for as long as I can remember. I've known Brad for just as long, why the heck would I all of a sudden start liking him this way?"

"Honey, there's nothing wrong with having emotions like this." Mac got up as well. "You're going to have lots of crushes, if you stop liking one boy it doesn't mean anything other then you just weren't meant to have more of a relationship with him."

"Yeah, but that's the problem. I'm not sure I ever stopped liking Tim, I guess maybe I just like Brad too." Sasha put a hand through her hair. "Mom, I'm so confused."

"Well, what happened after you kissed Brad?" Mac asked.

"He kissed me back." Sasha answered instantly. "He _really_ kissed me back and then I kind of felt like I was floating."

"Yeah, we all have that feeling." Mac tried to empathize with her daughter.

"Except I actually was kind of floating." Sasha tried to explain. "I was kind of pressed up against him and his left arm was on my back and well, he's pretty strong and kind of taller than me so I was floating about two inches off the ground."

"Okay." Mac nodded. "Honey, remember that conversation we had a few years ago about things that it would make our lives easier if you didn't tell your father?"

"Yeah." Sasha answered.

"This is one of those conversations." Mac chuckled lightly.


	78. Will Both Survive It

"_Religion and atheism __**will both survive it **__[the play Jesus Christ Superstar__**."**__ – Stanley Kauffmann _

_May 2016_

Sasha Rabb straightened out her costume and practiced her vocal scales as the seconds ticked down to curtain time. This play was wholly different from anything that she had previously done with the school in that there was no spoken dialogue, it was all in song. In fact, it was entertaining to watch the cast run around back stage. The bad guys were still being fitted for their black robe and large hats. Jimmy Roberts and the other apostles were trying to sing in some kind of harmony and after all their practice, they were actually starting to sound like a barbershop quartet. Then there were the two male leads, Henry Wright was playing Judas and Tim Ross was playing Jesus; a fact which somehow was mentioned on the 700 Club this morning.

She peaked through a crack in the backstage door and saw the auditorium starting to fill. There was going to be impressive attendance…after all, the President's son was playing Jesus Christ. Sasha's eyes went wide when she saw the few students in the front row, it was the terrible twosome. Tim used to say that guys picked girlfriends who were their opposite and best friends who were their reflection. Brad Ross and Arleigh Chegwidden were a classic example of that.

Both of them were dominant athletes in multiple sports. They wore their letter jackets with pride because of the multiple state championship bars on the sleeves. Both were taller than normal (Arleigh was actually taller than Brad by about two inches) and had those same kind of roguish good looks. The two of them were holding court with a bunch of eighth grade girls who were trying very hard not to scream at them like they were teen idols. Sasha laughed to herself. Next year they would all be going to school together at Bishop Denis J. O'Connell High School in Arlington and dealing with Jack, Brad and Arleigh would be a full time job for her.

Of course, the JV football coach had done cartwheels when he heard that he was getting Jack Ross as his new quarterback, Brad Ross as a new wide receiver and Arleigh Chegwidden his new running back. Still, they had to get through the last five weeks at their current school before high school had any real imminent value for them. The lights went dark and everyone settled into their seats. The actors moved into their places for the start of the show. The first song was _Heaven on Their Minds_, Henry Wright's impressive baritone as Judas made the song sound more ominous then she remembered from watching the movie.

The next song was _What's the Buzz/Strange Things Mystifying_. Everyone involved took their places on the stage. The scene started out with Jimmy (in his role as Peter) and the Apostles singing and then Tim had to sing. His tenor warbled a little bit in the beginning, but it picked up strength and consistency as he kept singing. Then it came her turn to sing and she was able to stay on key for her lines. Then came the next confrontation between Jesus and Judas, which had been rehearsed thoroughly over the previous five months and played out beautifully on the stage.

Everyone cleared the stage for the first appearance of the High Priests and a version of _Then We Are Decided_. The scene introduced the counter-tenor of the Annas character and the baritone voice of Reggie Webster as Caiaphas. The lights went down and the stage was cleared again for the next scene. Sasha, Tim, the girls and the Apostles went on stage for _Everything's Alright_. The intro started and Sasha had to sing softly to Tim.

_Try not to get worried, try not to turn on to _

_Problems that upset you. _

_Oh, don't you know everything's alright? _

_Yes, everything's fine. _

_And we want you to sleep well tonight,_

_Let the world turn without you tonight. _

_If we try, we'll get by so forget all about us tonight._

Sasha took a breath. In light of recent events with her feeling for Tim, singing the next few words, and acting in the next few minutes would only make things worse. Of course, she realized that Mary Magdalene was supposed to be emotionally conflicted in this play, so that only helped her character.

_Sleep and I shall soothe you_

_Calm you and anoint you_

_Myrrh for your hot forehead _

_Then you'll feel everything's alright_

_Yes, everything's fine_

_And it's cool and the ointment's sweet_

_For the fire in your head and feet_

_Close your eyes, close your eyes and relax_

_Think of nothing tonight_

She was holding Tim against her as she ran a damp cloth over his forehead. The connotations of this close Mary on Jesus contact was surely making some evangelical's head somewhere explode. The tension between the two of them was so thick you could cut it with a knife. There was no way that anyone in the crowd could miss it. This coincidentally, is exactly what Sasha's friends in the audience were thinking. Judas broke into sing his part which relieved the tension a bit and for a few seconds anyway. Then Sasha had to get between Judas and Jesus

_Try not to get worried, try not to turn on to_

_Problems that upset you, oh_

_Don't you know everything's alright, yes_

_Everything's fine_

Now it was Jesus' turn to sing and confront Judas. Sasha was a little worried about this one because as hard as Tim had been practising, his command of his upper register was far from perfect. But as "Jesus" started into the cold eyes of "Judas" and belted out the verse, Sasha was impressed that he'd gotten it exactly. But now, it was her turn again. She had to get between Jesus and coax him back down to the floor. She stood and placed her hands on his chest.

_Sleep and I shall soothe you, calm you and anoint you.  
Myrrh for your hot forehead  
Then you'll feel  
Everything's alright, yes, everything's fine.  
And it's cool and the ointment's sweet  
For the fire in your head and feet.  
Close your eyes, close your eyes, and relax  
Think of nothing tonight_.

She was holding Tim up against her once again as if to gently rock him to sleep. The cloth lightly dabbing at his hairline. Tim then did something that neither of them had expected _or_ rehearsed. He took her hand and lightly kissed the back side of it. This kind of tenderness and affection simply would have been dismissed at any other school. But this was the President's son, an instant media magnet. The scene ended and they all dashed off stage. Sasha pretty much sprinted off stage, she only had one more difficult scene to get through and then she'd be done with it.

The show worked through the middle of the first act with the cast doing its versions of _This Jesus Must Die, Hosanna, Simon Zealots/Poor Jerusalem, Pilot's Dream _and_ The Temple_ before it would be only Sasha and Tim alone on stage again. The house lights dimmed as "Mary Magdalene" and "Jesus" took to the stage. A bed of blankets and the painted scenery of a desert, stars and a full moon behind them.

_Try not to get worried, try not to turn on to_

_Problems that upset you, oh_

_Don't you know everything's alright, yes_

_Everything's fine_

She gently acted as though to lull him to sleep. She was hunched over him singing softly into his ear.

_And I think I should sleep well tonight_

_Let the world turn without me tonight_

Tim answered with a drowsy looking smile. Sasha ran her fingers over his eyelids to close them.

_Close your eyes, close your eyes _

_And forget all about us tonight_

She stood up. It was her big solo. It was gut-wrenching and considering the circumstances the song was way too appropriate. Some cosmic force of fate somewhere had to be looking down and smiling.

_I don't know how to love him.  
What to do, how to move him.  
I've been changed, yes really changed.  
In these past few days, when I've seen myself,  
I seem like someone else._

She paced around the stage, staring at the ground and trying to look introspective while she sang. Her gaze occasionally drifting into the audience or back at Tim in his costume as Jesus.

_I don't know how to take this.  
I don't see why he moves me.  
He's a man. He's just a man.  
And I've had so many men before,  
In very many ways,  
He's just one more._

She sang, but this time her gaze was locked on Bradley Ross in the fourth row with his cousin and brother. His eyes were fixed on her as well. This tension wasn't as evident but it was like a silver thread cutting through the crowd. Now was the really emotional part, she had to really belt it out and let out all that inner anguish that just wanted to scream. But she had to channel it into song.

_Should I bring him down?  
Should I scream and shout?  
Should I speak of love,  
Let my feelings out?  
I never thought I'd come to this.  
What's it all about? _

Her eyes were pinched tightly shut by the end as that clear, pure quality of her voice just filled the auditorium. Brad could have sworn, she'd lifted him from his seat. He knew Arleigh was trying to whisper something sarcastic to him but he just couldn't take his eyes off Sasha on the stage.

_Don't you think it's rather funny,  
I should be in this position.  
I'm the one who's always been  
So calm, so cool, no lover's fool,   
Running every show.  
He scares me so._

Her gaze returned to introspect and staring at her feet as she made her way from the front of the stage back toward where "Jesus" lie sleeping. In the song, Mary was supposed to be coming to terms with her feelings. Sasha felt more like she was resigning herself. Lucky for her, she got two more lines of anguished questioning

_I never thought I'd come to this._

_What's it all about?_

Her eyes were cast toward the ceiling, as if questioning God himself. The maelstrom of emotions that had plagued her soul for the last few months was pouring out in this song. But now came the time when she had to return to acting. She made her way back to Jesus' side.

_Yet, if he said he loved me,  
I'd be lost. I'd be frightened.  
I couldn't cope, just couldn't cope.  
I'd turn my head. I'd back away.  
I wouldn't want to know.  
He scares me so.  
I want him so.  
I love him so._

The song ended with "Mary Magdalene" stroking Jesus' hair lightly as he slept and Sasha Rabb trying to keep her gaze focused on Tim. She found herself asking many the same questions about him that Mary asked and coming up with precious fewer answers.

80 MINUTES LATER

ST. GREG'S

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The parents eagerly awaited the return of their children from the backstage area. Well, actually only three sets of parents did because it was the only way the Secret Service would let the President out of the balcony and down to see the kids after the show. Sure enough Jimmy, Sasha and Tim were out within a few minutes of the rest of their cast mates.

"Damn you can sing, Sash!" Brad said enthusiastically.

"Yeah, I think you actually made Brad care about a musical." Arleigh laughed and popped Brad on the shoulder.

"Bradley, do you have anything to say to your brother?" Nicole instructed in a very maternal tone.

"Yeah, Tim you were really good too." Brad gave Tim a brotherly pat on the back. "But damn can you sing, Sash."

Sasha was trying very hard not to blush. "Thanks, Brad." She answered cordially.

"Excellent job, sweetie." Harm gave his daughter a hug and was soon followed by Mac. She really had been the standout in the grade eight cast; her voice clearly had better tone, pitch and range then anyone else on stage. Not that the rest of the cast was weak. Tim had actually done a pretty good job as Jesus, especially considering that he had to sing the toughest song when he had to sing _Gethsemane _in the second act. Jimmy Roberts had done a pretty good job with the small part he had as Peter, although pitch problems were a little tougher to detect when someone was singing in a large group as Jimmy often was during the play. The only exception to the rule, aside from Sasha herself, was Henry Wright who'd had the difficult role of playing Judas tonight but he'd had tough roles in the past. He'd played Little John in _Robin Hood_ last year and the Tin Man in _The Wizard of Oz _the year before that.

Bud Roberts looked like he was grasping for some non-existent comfort level with the fact that his son was an actor. He was proud of Jimmy, of course, but maybe it had something to do with being warped by Big Bud as a kid that he was just a little uneasy about the whole drama thing. But nevertheless, he gave his son a hug and a pat on the back. Everyone decided that if the kids were going to get any sleep tonight, in order to wake up in time for the big city championship baseball game tomorrow morning, they'd have to get to bed pretty soon. "Mom." Jimmy Roberts pleaded. "Can I _please_ sleepover at Tim's house?"

Harriet looked down at the pleading face of her son for a second before giving in to his request. "Is that okay with you, ma'am? Sir?" Harriet looked up at The First Lady and the President

"Don't look at me; I've got to leave at four tomorrow morning to get back to Pennsylvania." Nicole laughed and deferred to Nate. The President played at being contemplative for a second.

"Alright, slugger. Get in the car." Nate smiled at him fondly as Jimmy joined Arleigh, Brad, Jack and Tim in the limo. Bud and Harriet smiled after wishing their son a goodnight and headed for their car. "Harm, can I speak with you for a moment?" The two men took a few steps back into the foyer of the school. "You know what happened here tonight?"

"I have a vague idea, sir." Harmon answered with an evident look of concern.

"You could be dealing with this tomorrow with your campaign. If you want, I could talk with Brad and explain why Sasha might not be able to come to the game tomorrow morning." The President stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"That's very kind of you, sir." Harm started. "But my daughter seems to adopted one of Mac's qualities in that she's fast becoming her own woman. I don't imagine she'd let politics stand between her and a good ballgame."

"You've got a good kid there, Harm." Nate congratulated.

"Back at you, sir." Harm responded. "Times three."

"All the same, Harm. It could be tough for the kids for the next few days." The President pressed on. "Some reporters like taking the smallest thing and blowing it out of proportion, especially when it comes to my family."

"There isn't a better time to teach our kids how to not let the idiots win." Harm smiled quickly. "Some reporters will always be idiots."

"True." The President replied simply. "It just seems like a lot of them tend to end up in the White House press corps." The two of them shared a laugh. "How's the campaign going anyway?"

"I've got an event tomorrow morning with former President Russell and Senator Hewson." Harm explained. "Dusty thinks it'll expand our reach over Independents."

"I still can't believe the Republicans nominated Cal Hewson." The President shook his head in mild disbelief. "I would have thought the Religious Right had him on their hit list."

"Forces of change, sir." Harm answered. "Sasha will see the boys at the ball diamond at 11 tomorrow morning?"

"I'll send the car by to pick her up. Just so you guys don't have to run around." The President shook Harm's hand. "Good luck."

"You too, sir." Harm replied.

1535 ZULU

ST. DOMENIC'S

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The limo pulled up to the ball diamond behind St. Dom's. Brad had really wished that his dad could have come to the diamond to see him pitch today but the Secret Service had told him that there was just no way could they guarantee the President's security in the open air for that long. So, it was just the kids and the massive Secret Service detail that went everywhere with them. Arleigh and Jack were the first out of the car and they were followed in short order by Brad, Tim, Jimmy and Sasha. There was a crowd of reporters, likely tabloid or local news being kept at bay by the Secret Service but that didn't stop them from shouting at the kids.

Brad stopped dead in his tracks. There was something about being irritated by reporters that he didn't like and never would. "You guys go on ahead; I'll be there in a second." He smiled quickly and headed over to the barricade. He knew what they wanted to hear and he knew they wouldn't give up until somebody gave them a quote. "Don't you all have anything better to do on a Saturday morning?" Brad asked the gaggle

"Brad, is your brother dating Sasha Rabb?" One reporter asked him outright.

"As of my last conversation with him, all of eight seconds ago, no." Brad answered firmly. "Although what business it is of yours, I have no idea."

"Was your brother trying to suggest that Jesus and Mary had an intimate relationship last night when he kissed her during the play?" Another reporter asked.

"I think mostly my brother was trying to act well in his eighth grade play." Brad shot back. "I never thought I'd have to stress that it's an _eighth grade_ play. Listen, I know I'm just a kid. I'm fourteen years old. I understand that the press is necessary and you guys perform a valuable function in a democracy. But come on, guys, you've gotta have better things to do then bug kids." And with that, Brad walked away and headed for the ball diamond.

"Come on, Ross! Get it in gear." The manager called from the chain-link dugout at the side of the diamond. Brad jogged over to the side of the diamond where his catcher was waiting for him. The catcher tossed Brad the ball and the two of them went into their warm up motions.

"That was a hell of a thing your brother just did for you." Arleigh whispered to his cousin. "Most people would say thank you."

"I'll catch him after the game." Tim answered with a bit of a plastered smile. He knew that Brad was trying to do a good thing, the right thing but he couldn't help but feel that it was like Brad couldn't bear the spotlight being on someone else for a minute. He looked over at Sasha who was sitting next to him God, she was pretty. As much as he hated to agree with Brad on anything, he had to admit he was right when he said that she had a hell of singing voice. Not to mention that she was smart as a whip. What the hell kind of kid says "smart as a whip"? No, she's a brainiac, but a really hot one. "You think maybe they were right?" Tim asked.

"What?" She whispered back, unsure what he was saying.

"You know, about there being something between us." He chanced. "I mean, I guess a part of me always kind of thought…"

"Thought what?" She was kind of sure where this was headed and unsure that she wanted it to go there.

"You know, that we kind of had this little unspoken thing." He was daring to grin a bit. "I just never thought much about it until recently."

"That's the thing about unspoken things." She tried to explain. "You don't _have_ to deal with them, so you don't."

"Are you saying you never felt it, it was all in my head?" Tim inquired, trying to conceal the hurt feelings that were rapidly developing in his gut.

"No." Sasha answered emphatically. "No, I'm not saying that. I'm saying that I had those feelings for a few years and I waited for you to do something. Why of all times would you pick now?"

"Because I didn't know how you felt!" Tim answered, still trying to keep his voice low. "Are you saying it's my fault that we never did the whole 'going out' thing?"

"Yes." Sasha's answer was simple.

"Well, what if I wanna do that thing now?" Tim questioned, his eyes giving off a slight pleading look.

"Tim, I don't know." Sasha sounded cautious.

"Shhhh!" Jack intervened. "Some of us are actually here to watch the game." St. Greg's was first up to bat, being as they were playing in the other team's ball-park. St. Greg's had managed to put two runners in scoring position before the third baseman flew out to end the top of the inning. There was a tradition at St. Greg's that every batter got his own theme song when he came to the plate and the tradition extended to Brad when he went out to pitch every inning. The theme for Brad was _Hammer to Fall_ by Queen. He stood on the mound and warmed up.

1730 ZULU

JEFFERSON HIGH SCHOOL

RICHMOND, VIRGINIA

Harm stood backstage straightening his tie. He was set to take the stage with a former President and the Presidential nominee of his own party. "Admiral Rabb?" An older voice could be heard behind him. "It's good to see a familiar face, although I remember you better as a Captain."

"Yes, sir." Harm chortled as he shook former President Russell's hand. "How are things, sir?"

"Boring, it's hell being retired." The former President joked. "I called Nate Ross this morning and told him that he'd save his mind if he found some place to work once he was released from that gorgeous prison on Pennsylvania Avenue."

"Yeah, well, I can't see him being sedentary for too long." Harm laughed. "I've only ever seen the poor guy work; I think that's how he has fun."

"Well, the hardest transition in the world is from the Oval Office to a corner office." President Russell laughed. "Must be doubly tough if you don't have a law degree and can't just settle into a firm."

"Yeah, well right now I'm just trying to focus on getting my own office on Capitol Hill." Harm shrugged. "Wow, never thought I'd say that."

"Yeah, it's odd." The former President laughed. "Got your eye on the latest poll?"

"I try not to pay attention to them." Harm answered.

"Yeah, I said that a lot during my Senate campaigns, too." The former President chuckled again. "So, what are the latest numbers?"

"I'm at 53 and my opponent is at 39, undecided voters are still eight percent and Dusty tells me that this poll sampled likely voters instead of registered, which is supposedly more accurate." Harm stuck a finger under the collar of his shirt to work out some of the starch.

"You really are new at this politics thing, huh?" The Former President sounded really surprised.

"I've normally been on the policy end of it." Harm answered as a new Secret Service detail entered the room behind the high school gymnasium.

"Cal!" Former President Russell called to the Republican nominee. Senator Hewson of Minnesota came over and shook the hand of the former President. "Cal, let me introduce you to Admiral Harmon Rabb."

"Yes, the Admiral and I know each other from his frequent appearances in front of the Foreign Relations committee when he was Chairman of the Joint Chiefs." Cal nodded at Harm. "Good to see you again, Harm."

"And you, Cal. Congrats on winning the nomination." Harm shook the hand of the Republican nominee. "Any word on who the Democrats are nominating as Vice President, yet?"

"I've heard rumours that Danny Proper is considering keeping your old buddy Vice President Turner on as the VP nominee." Senator Hewson answered. "It'll be a tough ticket to beat but I've got a pretty good lead on them so far. Turner would be the only Vice President to serve under two different Presidents since John C. Calhoun."

"Yeah, well Sturgis would have a lot more sway in the Proper administration than he had over the last four years. Being as he'd likely be the only experienced cabinet member in the room." Harm explained. "Not to mention a former Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, he shores up the Democrats on foreign policy experience."

"Thanks Harm, like I needed more worries." Cal Hewson jibed and gave Harm a pat on the shoulder. The three men could hear the microphone warming up out in the gym. Apparently, most of the south side of the city had shown up and was crammed into the gym. "Well, let's go greet our waiting public."

"After you, Mr. President." Harm joked.

"It's a little early for that." Senator Hewson joked as they stood in front of the door. "Would you want your staffers running around referring to you as a Senator already?"

"No way." Harm laughed. "I've got a bad history with tempting fate, though it usually has to do with flying an F-14 through the rain a night before a wedding."

"You can tell me that story later." Former President Russell was chuckling a bit to himself.

"Ladies and Gentleman let me introduce the former President Andrew Russell; the future Senator from the great state of Virginia, Harmon Rabb; and the next President of the United States, Senator Calvin Hewson." The Emcee introduced the three speakers.

1814 ZULU

ST. DOMENIC'S

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Brad Ross took to the mound for the bottom of the ninth inning. He threw a few warm up pitches before glaring in over the plate as the first batter stepped into the box. In the stands, the crowd from St. Greg's was sitting on the edge of their seat. Not because it was a close game, there team was up 5-0. They were on the edge of their seat because through eight innings of work, Brad Ross had given up no runs, no hits, three walks and had committed only one error.

It was the far bottom corner of the strike zone that was doing in the other team. Once Brad was able to combine speed and control, there was no batter in _this_ league that could hit him. He forced batters to chase him outside. Brad went into his wind up and burned in a fastball on the outside corner; strike one. The catcher tossed the ball back and Brad rolled the ball around in his mitt. He stared in for the signal and nodded. The split-finger fastball sailed in looking like it was just going to glide under the letters before diving at the last minute. Swung on and missed; strike two. The catcher tossed the ball back again. Brad loved being ahead in the count. It meant that he could throw one just outside the strike zone and as long as it looked good coming into the plate, the batter would take a big fat swing at it.

He knew exactly what pitch was coming next. He nodded at the signal and threw his patented slider. It coasted majestically toward the plate before diving down and away at the last second. The batter took a huge swing at the ball, and missed; strike three.

"They've gotta pull him." Jack said to Arleigh. "He's at 97 pitches."

"Yeah, this is when I'd normally come out of the bullpen and close out the game." Arleigh commented.

"And even though you may be the best closer in Virginia, we're in the District now." Jack retorted as the next batter came to the plate. "The coach isn't even warming up a closing pitcher."

"It's easy to tell when my brother's hit his comfort level. He starts out just throwing the fastball, the split-finger and the slider. If he's got a handle on those pitches, he moves on to the change-up and the curveball. If those two are working as well, he might work a knuckleball into the rotation." Jack looked on.

"I don't care what anyone says, Brad lives up to the hype when he's pitching." Sasha added and elbowed Arleigh in the ribs. The umpire called strike two and the gang realized that they'd missed the first three pitches.

The count was one ball, two strikes. Brad went searching for his pitch. He'd burned the batter with a curveball and a slider thus far, but the split-finger had missed outside. He settled on it. Lining his fingers up just right on the ball, Brad nodded at the signal and went into his wind up. He floated a change-up at the plate that quickly put the breaks on as it neared the plate. The batter was way out in front of it; strike three.

There was one more out remaining. St. Dom's wasn't second in the city for nothing; they had the best clean-up hitter in the league. The kid had flown out to centre-field twice already this game before striking out in the seventh inning. But now he was the only thing keeping his team's season alive. Brad looked in toward the plate with a cold, dead stare. He nodded at the signal and hurled a slider at the plate. For it being Brad's 101st pitch of the game, it was still going at a good speed and it broke just in time to evade the swing; strike one.

Brad caught the ball when it was tossed back to him. The crowd from both schools were on their feet. Brad took a quick pause, pulled his cap off and wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked in for the signal and nodded. He burned in a split-finger fastball. The batter was slow to catch up to it but he made contact. The ball went off the tip of the bat and was just fouled of wide to the right. He had one pitch left; it was the only way that he could be sure he would keep the ball in the park. After all, it had worked last year in the season opener. He curled his fingers over and dug his nails into the hide of the ball.

The knuckleball came floundering into the plate. The batter managed to put wood on the ball and it skipped off his bat back into the gap between the pitcher and first base. Brad dove for it and snagged the ball. He rolled over and shovelled the ball to the first baseman for the out. Once the umpire at first base called the out, Brad fell to his knees. He'd done it, he'd thrown a no-no! The St. Greg's team rushed the field and mobbed their starting pitcher. The team hoisted him up on their shoulders.

Jack and Arleigh had been a part of the crowd that rushed the field but Tim and Sasha had started walking back toward the car. "So, like I was saying about, you know, maybe trying the whole 'going out' thing." Tim chanced.

"Oh, Tim I don't know." Sasha's hesitation was evident.

"How about just until the end of the school year. You know, just to see if we could handle it without screwing up being friends?" Tim gave her that familiar grin; the one that she used to go so gaga over. But her knees didn't buckle and she didn't get that goofy schoolgirl smile. She should have taken it as a sign, but she didn't.

"Okay." She answered. "But just to see if we can pull it off."

2101 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Tim walked into the living room of the White House residence to see his dad watching the Philadelphia Phillies baseball game while reading some papers. "Your brother played well today, did you watch the game?" Nate asked from behind stacks of papers.

"I was there, dad." Tim answered sarcastically.

"Wasn't what I asked." Nate set his beer bottle down on the coffee table along with his papers. "I figured with having to deal with the press gaggle and sitting next to Sasha after what happened last night you might be a bit pre-occupied."

"Am I that obvious?" Tim looked stunned.

"Only because I was once a fourteen year-old boy." Nate motioned for his son to take a seat. "What's on your mind, boy?"

"Dad, I'm not sure I like the press attention." Tim started nervously. "I mean, I want to be able to be normal once we leave here in January and I'm just not sure that's possible as long as I live with you and mom."

"I see." Nate leaned back into the couch. "I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me that , Tim. It must have been tough."

"Nah, dad, you're alright." Tim answered in a tone that was meant to lighten the mood.

"Son, I've been waiting for the right time to bring this up but I figure now's as good a time as any." The President leaned forward. "Your mother and I applied you for admission to Phillips-Exeter Academy. You more then met the Academic requirements and your hockey skills were an added bonus. Now, you seemed so damn gung-ho about going to school with your brothers next year that we didn't bring it up. But if you want to get away from the lens of the camera, going there would probably help."

"It's a good school." Tim nodded. "And it's a once in a lifetime opportunity. I'd have to live there, right?"

"I'm afraid that New Hampshire is just too far to commute every morning, son." Nate smiled fondly.

"I think I wanna go, dad." Tim answered. "I really wanna go."

"I'll talk to the Principal on Monday, Tim." Nate gave his son a quick hug. "Now, go have fun, it's a shame to waste a beautiful Saturday."


	79. To Replace Them With Others

"_Conservative, n: A statesman who is enamoured of existing evils, as distinguished from the Liberal who wishes__** to **__**replace**__** them with **__**others**__" – Ambrose Bierce _

_November 2016_

It was early November, in a way it was Bradley Ross's least favourite time of the year. Football season was coming to an end but not over, hockey season was starting but it was training camp so no games were being played. In the morning, Brad would be up at 4:30am to make it to the rink at 6:00 for a 6:30 practice. He'd be at school until 6:00 that night which was when football practice ended. So, that's where he was on Election Day at quarter after seven in the morning, skating around at full speed on the rink.

The coach had bumped him up from the Junior Varsity squad to the Varsity squad on account of the fact that he was the only hockey player at the school to ever play for Team USA at an international competition. "Get on it, Ross!" The coach called as he blew his whistle. At five foot eleven, Brad was far from the tallest guy on the team but that didn't stop him from being one of the fastest. The team was skating a lap and the coach seemed to think Brad was coasting a bit. He was but he was surprised the coach noticed. Coming out of the turn on to the back stretch, Brad turned up the octane and burst away from the pack.

Brad was the first to finish one lap of the ice, a good six seconds ahead of the rest of the team. The rest of the team was panting to catch, their breath; not something Brad thought boded well for their prospects for the rest of the season. The coach reached over the boards into the bench and produced one puck. "Alright ladies, five minutes of five on five. Ross, you're with Ashby and DiAngelo. Parker, you've got Sabyan and Berger on your wings!"

The goaltenders took to their nets at either end of the ice. Defensemen were assigned to the blue-line and the coach stepped in to drop the puck between the two centres, Parker and Ashby. Parker won the draw and slid the puck back to his defence. His defenseman took a few backward strides to examine his options before sliding the puck up to his right winger. Brad watched the player on the far side of the ice out the corner of his eye while remaining aware of the winger he was supposed to be covering. Then he saw it, the pass from the other wing came sliding across the ice toward them.

Brad backed off a few strides to let the opposing winger take the puck before taking two strides and driving his shoulder into the middle of the boy's chest, sending him to the ice. In a flash, Brad had grabbed the loose puck and was skating up the ice. The only other person that was able to keep up with him was Ashby, his centre. Brad skated in over the opposing blue-line and dropped the puck back to Ashby. Brad skated along the boards into the corner and Ashby fired the puck to him. Brad skated around behind the net and saw his winger, DiAngelo, coming in off the half-boards. Brad slid him a pass from behind the net and DiAngelo buried his shot in the net under the goalie's arm.

Brad raised his stick to celebrate but was thrown into the boards by the winger Sabyan whom he had checked a few moments earlier. Brad got up and stood toe to toe with the tall winger. "You're gonna skate with the big boys, freshman, you better be able to take the bruises." Sabyan taunted.

"No, I get it, Sabyan. You're pissed because I made you look foolish." Brad retorted and the two of them got into a shoving match that the coach had to break up.

"Alright, alright, alright!" The coach shouted. "Everyone hit the showers, practice is over." The team skated for the door to the bench and then walked the long hallway to the dressing room. Brad through himself down on the bench in the locker room to start taking his equipment off.

"Looks like the coach is content to keep us on the same line." The guy next to Brad said. "Peter Ashby." He extended his hand to shake Brad's.

"Brad Ross." Brad introduced himself. "How old are you, Ashby?"

"Fourteen." Ashby answered. "Coach pulled me from the JV tryouts because I was faster than every other kid on the ice."

"I'm guessing I'm here because I've played in five tournaments for Team USA." Brad replied as he tossed his upper body gear into his bag. "Guess the seniors are gonna give us a pretty hard time, huh?" The two boys talked as they put their equipment away.

After a quick shower, Brad got dressed in his school uniform and prepared to head to school. He threw his bag in the back of the car and got in so the Secret Service could take him across town to the school. When the car got there, Brad saw a group of familiar faces standing outside waiting for him. He got out with his backpack over his shoulder.

"Jesus, you guys are up early." Brad greeted.

"It's 8:30 in the morning, that's not early." Arleigh answered. "How was hockey practice? Seniors still giving you a rough time?"

"I'm starting to think they don't like me." Brad groaned as he tried to loosen up the shoulder he landed on when Sabyan gave him that cheap shot.

"Ease up, bud." Jack encouraged. "We got playoff football on Friday night; you can't keep getting the hell beaten out of yourself." Jack was right. After all, only three freshmen had made the starting roster this year. Jack's feat was by far the most impressive because he had beaten out last year's back up Quarterback for the starter's job this year. Arleigh was in at half-back but most of the running plays were constructed around a full-back anyway. Brad was the third receiver in a rotation of five. This meant both were far more expendable to the team than Jack.

Tim was on the phone home from New Hampshire once a week. He seemed to enjoy being away from Washington. This was odd because all last June, it seemed as if it would take the jaws of life to separate him and Sasha but after Independence Day, they just seemed to drift. Brad had, in some ways, become her surrogate Tim in that he now filled the role of the best friend; which was odd because he now had two best friends, Arleigh and her.

"You look like you were just put through hell." Sasha commented with a slight giggle.

"I feel like it." Brad groaned. The first bell rang. "Off to English class." Brad cheered. "We're watching CNN in U.S. Government today because of the Election."

"Is it really fair that the President's son gets to take U.S. Government?" She teased with a smile.

"I don't make the rules, I just enjoy them." Brad answered as they all headed off to class.

1351 ZULU

VFW HALL

GREAT FALLS, VIRGINIA

A ritual for any first time candidate is casting his or her vote in front of a rolling TV camera. Harm and Mac both felt a little self-conscious in that particular role this morning as they went into the voting booth to mark their ballots. They came out and slid their ballots into the box before smiling and waving to the camera. "Admiral Rabb, how do you feel about the election?" The reporter from the local NBC affiliate questioned.

"Like the people of Virginia and folks nationwide will come to the right answers." Harm answered ambiguously.

"Any predictions, Admiral?" The reporter from the local CBS affiliate followed up.

"I'm not in the predicting business; you'd better call Miss Cleo." Harm replied and got a chorus of laughs from the press gallery. "I will say that I'm very proud of the campaign that my staff and I have run to this point and I look forward to watching the results come in tonight."

"That'll be all folks; the Admiral has a full day ahead." Dusty intervened and escorted Harm and Mac out of the building toward the waiting car.

"What's this full day I've apparently got?" Harm looked curiously at his campaign manager. "I thought we were just doing the AARP breakfast in Alexandria."

"We are but it's also notoriously bad luck to have your candidate speak too much to the press on Election Day. Latest Zogby poll shows us that you've got a wide lead among Independents in the state. Of course, Republicans love you because you've got the whole Top Gun plus family man image." Dusty explained. "The last thing I want you to do today is say something ambiguous that can be twisted and hinder our get out the vote effort across the state."

"Well, what are we going to do after the AARP breakfast?" Harm asked.

"Every politician's favourite practice, go back to headquarters and look at exit polls." Dusty replied with a fond chuckle. "Around drive time, you'll do a few taped interviews with the local evening news, nothing too close to the edges just some controlled versions of your stump speech basically. The media's mostly going to be interested in the horse race so, we'll just feed that beast until the results come in tonight."

"How are the Pennsylvania and New Mexico Senate races looking?" Mac asked, deciding to interrupt the shop talk a bit.

"Mrs. Ross is enjoying a wider polling margin then some _incumbent_ Democratic Senators." Dusty answered with a slight anxiety. "New Mexico is going to be tight all night. Rossi was supposed to sleepwalk to re-election but Galindez really energized the Democratic machine in the state. I don't think it'll be called before midnight."

"Honey, when are you heading into work today?" Harm turned toward Mac.

"A little late, I'll likely walk through the big doors around quarter to ten." Mac answered with a quick grin. "I figure my husband's running for election, I'm the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, I can afford one late day. Especially since we aren't hearing arguments today."

"You like that you get to use your title in everyday conversation, don't you?" He flirted with her a bit.

"You know, I really do." She replied with a smile. The car pulled up in front of their house while Harm and Mac were gazing into each other's eyes and Dusty was on the phone with HQ in Arlington. "I'll see you after work tonight, alright?"

"Yeah." He nodded a little dreamily. Mac leaned forward and kissed him on the end of the nose.

"Good luck." She batted her eyelashes at him as she opened the car door.

"Sarah, wait." Harm managed to get the words out of his throat before his wife got out of the car. He reached for her and pulled her into a deep, passionate kiss. A few seconds later, the two of them parted.

"What's with the tonsillectomy, mister?" She inquired playfully.

"Just needed a little something to get me through the day." He actually replied rather smoothly.

"Go get'em, Hammer." She encouraged as she closed the car door behind her.

1656 ZULU

BISHOP DENIS J. O'CONNELL HIGH SCHOOL

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

"Hey, buddy." Brad cheered as he jogged up behind Sasha. "How was chemistry?"

"Did you seriously just call me 'buddy'?" She looked at him in disbelief.

"You're like one of my best friends, what else am I going to call you?" He joked with a broad smile. "Dude seemed inappropriate considering, well…"

"Think of something better than buddy." She instructed playfully as she poked him in the ribs with her index finger. "And chemistry went fine."

"Good to hear." Brad gave a loud yawn as they entered the cafeteria. "Math was a bore."

"You always think math's a bore." Sasha pointed out.

"Because it always is." He retorted as they filed into the cafeteria line. "So, what's Little Miss Extra Curricular going to do this year?"

"Well, I'm already a grade nine representative on student council and I was thinking of getting involved in Drama again, what else is there?" She teased a little bit.

"I don't know, I just figured with all the crap there is to do at this school, you'd branch out a little." Brad shuffled his feet as the line moved.

"Well, to be honest, watching you and your brothers all these years, I've kind of wondered what it would be like to play some organized sports again. I haven't since t-ball." Her doe brown eyes twinkled in the light. "Do you think you could teach me to pitch?"

"Softball ain't really my thing and that's what the girls play here if I understand the coach right." Brad answered but he just couldn't say no to those eyes. "Like, I don't think it can be that different so, if you want, sure I can help."

"Thanks." She smiled sweetly, which drew attention to her lips. He tried incredibly hard to fight the sensory memory flooding his brain with how it felt to kiss her last year. The two of them finished grabbing lunch and headed for a table. Brad took a seat and Sasha scooted into the bench right next to him.

"Don't you normally sit across from me?" He inquired, trying to speak around the straw in his mouth.

"I'm your friend; I can't sit next to you?" She was intentionally trying to sound offended without actually being offended.

"Cut that out, you sound like my grandmother." Brad teased and she playfully smacked him across the shoulder.

"Bradley, take that back!" Her voice climbed an octave; she actually was offended this time. She had to laugh when she saw him laughing. "So, are you flying up to Bethlehem after school?"

"No, Jack's heading up without me." Brad answered while shaking his head. "With no football practice tonight and the last cuts for hockey training camp tomorrow morning, I managed to convince my mom that it was better for me to stay in D.C."

"So, you've got the house all to yourself after school?" She asked, trying to see what he was doing once school let out.

"Except for the Secret Service, the White House kitchen staff, the porters, the ushers and the maids, yeah I've got the residence all to myself." Brad answered, the sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Wanna come over help me with my homework and maybe watch a movie?"

"Can I pick the movie?" Sasha asked, a little excited that he was able to catch her drift so easily.

"Yeah, what the hell." Brad was nonchalant. Still, there was something about what transpired that bugged him and his conscience was all too willing to come out with it. "Sash, what happened between you and Tim at the end of last year?"

"We decided to try the whole 'going out' thing." Sasha answered a little hesitantly. "I would have thought it was obvious."

"Okay, what happened then? Because after July 4th the two of you had about as much comfort level around each other as a fat guy does on a bed of nails." Brad joked a little at the end.

"Your brother told me about going to New Hampshire and I didn't take the news too kindly. We kind of broke up, I guess." She answered, this time an edge of annoyance coloured her voice. "Why the sudden interest?"

"Just an urge to explain something I found curious." Brad lifted some salad to his mouth. The two of them sat in a semi-comfortable silence for a few seconds waiting for the rest of the gang to join them. "Can you believe they feed us this stuff?"

"You gonna sue the cook for malpractice?" Sasha laughed as they continued eating. She noticed Brad was slowly putting a little physical distance between them. "Brad what has you so uncomfortable around me all of a sudden?"

There was a loaded question. There was any number of things that had him acting uncomfortable around her. The first reason was obvious, Tim was gone. There was no buffer between them; they'd lost their familiar frame of reference through which they dealt with each other; or at least through which Brad dealt with her. The second was this underlying simmering attraction. On TV, those kind of attractions culminated in a kiss. This all started with a kiss, her first and his……well, that was unimportant because it was the one that haunted him.

He turned his head to face her and gave her a smile he inched back toward her. "It's nothing." He answered. "Just got a lot on my mind."

1923 ZULU

GALINDEZ FOR SENATE HQ

SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO

"I've got exit polls hot off the presses." Stacy came heading through the door to Gunny's office waving the documents in the air. Gunny was playing with Claudia and both of there faces brightened up when they saw Stacy. "It's good news. We're up six in the first district, up twelve in the third district and only losing by five in the second district. Voters are listing healthcare, education and criminal justice as their top three priorities and we're ahead 53-47 across the state."

"Well, that's good isn't it?" Gunny questioned, his daughter perched on his knee.

"Tough to say." Stacy answered. "For now, it's always good to be in the lead. But six points can narrow awful quickly once the plants close at five o'clock and the overwhelming number of voters in the line become men.. The only thing that might work in our favour is the number of Hispanics working in those plants now."

"I told you, I don't want to be seen as the Hispanic candidate." Gunny responded, sounding understandably exasperated after seven months of campaigning.

"And I told you that we wouldn't run you as the Hispanic candidate but that wouldn't stop some people from using your race as a factor in their voting decision anyway." Stacy answered as she moved over to his side of the desk. "You need to power down and relax, Marine. You stay on edge like this and you're gonna have a heart attack before they announce a winner tonight."

"You saying I'm old?" Gunny flirted, admittedly through a very drowsy expression.

"I like to think of it more like 'well aged'." She sat on the edge of his desk. "Like a fine scotch." She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Mmmm, smooth."

"You're a little corny, you know that?" He stared deep into her eyes.

"I do know that, but I'm kind of proud of it." She replied as she crossed her legs.

"Mommy, Daddy's not old." Claudia protested. "Grandma says he's distinguished." The two adults muffled a chuckle at that. Stacy jotted something down on a piece of paper and handed it to him. _"That's my mother's word for 'old'.";_ the piece of paper read and Gunny laughed. "Besides, that guy on the TV said Daddy's one of the good guys."

"Your daddy _is_ one of the good guys." Stacy picked up her daughter and tickled her under the chin. The child cooed. "One of the _best_ guys." No matter what happened tonight, _this_ was the highlight of Gunny's day. There was nothing quite like spending the day with his girls and with nothing to do between the MAPA brunch this morning and the watching the returns tonight, he was content to spend all day with them.

"Do you think we'll win?" He looked up Stacy, she had this way of just looking so beautiful in a suit. He couldn't understand how she consistently pulled it off, truth be told he didn't really care how she kept pulling it off, he was just glad she did.

"I think it's a much closer race right now than it would have been without you running in it." Stacy answered, looking at the clock on the wall. "I think at the end of the day, people like you and they trust you. They'll vote for you because they want to trust in the goodness of their elected officials."

"So, you think I'll beat Rossi purely on the strength of my character?" Gunny questioned as he took her hand in his own.

"I hope you do." Stacy began to lightly stroke the back of his hand. "God knows the Senate could use good men like you and Admiral Rabb. I'm hoping both you and he pull it out tonight."

"Yeah, well he's got a better poll numbers right now than I do." Gunny commented as if in passing.

"It helps when you're not running against a sitting Senator." Stacy leaned forward a bit to gaze into her lover's eyes. "But and election is nothing in this country if there isn't a surprise somewhere along the way. Now, try and get a few minutes rest, God knows you'll be up late tonight."

"Oh, so you're planning one of _those_ nights." Gunny implied as Stacy headed for the doorway to the bullpen of the campaign headquarters.

"Only if you win; that way we can celebrate." She teased as she stood in the doorway.

"What if I lose and need some consolation?" Gunny toyed back.

"We'll work something out." She winked at him.

2058 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The books were spread wide open on the table as the two of them prepared to do their English homework. Shakespeare was slowing driving Brad insane. Sasha was going out of her way to convince him that it really wasn't as tough as he thought and that he'd soon get the hang of it. The play they were studying probably wasn't helping her teach though; the sadistic Gods had hurled _Romeo and Juliet_ in their path. She sat on the couch reading through Act 2 as Brad toiled away making popcorn in the kitchen. She was probably tougher on him then necessary, there was a lot he was actually capable of doing aside from sports.

"I have the popcorn." Brad was juggling the hot bowl on his way into the living room. He set it down on the table amongst the books. "What movie did you pick?" She tossed him the DVD case. He looked it over for a second before tossing her an exasperated look. "You went into Helene's stash? We're not watching _10 Things I Hate About You_, we're not."

"Oh, come on Brad, please?" She stuck out her bottom lip and batted her eyelashes.

"No." He answered simply, trying to stand his ground. She put on a sweet little smile and walked over to stand directly in front of him. She gently laid one hand on his arm and began to rub it ever so slightly.

"Please." She asked in another sugary sweet tone.

"Oh, fine." He caved, she knew he would and he'd lecture himself for a week. She smiled at him, took the movie and slid it into the DVD player. The two of them tried to settle in and get serious about studying for about twenty minutes. They gave up and just rested on the couch to watch the movie. Brad was pressed into the corner of the couch and Sasha was tucked under his arm.

"So, why are you sticking back to get sleep for tomorrow? Why's tomorrow's practice so important?" She looked up at him.

"Final cuts tomorrow." Brad took some popcorn and tossed it into his mouth.

"You can't be serious." Sasha shook her head. "You're on a team of sixteen, seventeen and eighteen year-olds and you're _still_ the best player. He's not going to cut you."

"Doesn't matter, the team's gotta respect me or we aren't going to win and they aren't going to respect me if I'm not there day in and day out." Brad answered. This was the part of him that she really liked; Brad always tried to be the ultimate team player. Being selfless when you were as talented as he was… she didn't know how he did it. She reached up and pulled his arm a little tighter around her.

When the movie ended, Brad was rubbing his eyes trying to stay awake. He saw Sasha's eyes still glued to the screen. "The only good part of that movie is when he sings that song by Little Anthony and the Imperials."

"Oh yeah, you mock it but you liked it, admit it." She turned to face him.

"Because I'm a teenage girl who honestly believes that thinking of ten things I like about a person will make me forget about every other thing that would stand between the two of us?" Brad huffed and let out a hearty laugh.

"You never know, Brad." Sasha's voice was hardly more then a whisper. "Sometimes just saying something out loud makes a feeling more powerful."

"No, saying something out loud just means you've convinced yourself of something." Brad sprang up off the couch and ran a hand through his hair.

"And we're back to uncomfortable again." Sasha muttered to herself.

"I'm _not_ uncomfortable!" Brad protested.

"Around me you are." Sasha replied, getting off the couch herself. "And it's just this year, too. If the guys are around, we're fine. But the second we're alone you get twitchier than a neurotic on Red Bull."

"I do not!" He protested and began to pace the floor.

"Tell me what's wrong." She moved toward him, those large doe eyes gazing into his. "I'm your friend, Brad, I want to help you."

"You can't!" Brad answered tersely. "I don't think anyone can, but you _really_ can't." She began to pout a little bit and she threw herself down on the couch. She didn't like to cry, in fact she hated it. About the only thing she hated more was fighting with him. She didn't know why, she had arguments with Tim all the time. The last one they had about him moving away was a real shouting match but there was just something different about fighting with Brad. She wanted to help him, couldn't he just see that? "Hey, don't cry." He sat next to her and put a hand on her back. He hated making girls cry.

"I'm not crying." She insisted.

"I don't understand, are your eyes raining?" He joked and she didn't laugh. "Hey, what's up?"

"I actually do want to help you, Brad." She asserted. "I just don't want you to be uncomfortable around me forever."

"I just wish…" Brad started. He was shaking his head the whole time. "I just wish I didn't have some of these feelings."

"Some of what feelings?" Sasha questioned. She looked up to find that Brad had leapt off the couch again. She decided to follow him.

"I wish I never kissed you." Brad declared, which Sasha was a little hurt. "I wish I didn't want to do it again. I wish I could just be your friend." He moved toward her. "I wish I could look at you without thinking about how…how many words come to mind when I think of how you look and how using one would just never seem to be enough. I wish I wasn't drawn to your intelligence or your laugh." He cupped her face in his hands. "I wish you didn't have the softest lips I've ever kissed." He didn't have to move this time, she moved into him. His arms came down from her cheeks to around her back.

She was sure that she didn't really know what love was supposed to be other then the kind of familial love that everyone felt for their mother and father and siblings. She wasn't sure that she ever loved a boy but she could love things; she loved the way he kissed her. She didn't like to compare boys, it seemed cheap. But subconsciously a part of her couldn't help it. Eventually the two of them stepped away. "We've got to stop doing that." He stated while clearing his throat.

"Because?" She questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"I hate to sound like a broken record, but you're my _friend_." Brad stressed. "I keep thinking about what would happen if we broke up. You're one of my best friends, Sash. You understand me better than anyone else and I…I…just don't want to risk that." He never stopped staring into her eyes.

"Can I say something now?" She asked.

"Of course." He nodded.

"Brad, I like you. I don't know why I do, I just do. I can try not to, I _have _tried not to, and it doesn't work. I get scared when I think about what would happen if we didn't work either. But I _do_ like you, Brad." She moved toward him. "My mom told me once that there are two kinds of girls, the ones you grow out of and the ones you grow into. I don't know which kind I am yet but I think it works the same way for boys. I'll be your friend, I'll be your best friend and that'll never change. But you're right, we've got to stop doing this if it's not going somewhere."

"Why do I feel like you're breaking up with me?" He asked with a slight laugh under his breath.

"I'm just that good with words." She answered. "So are you by the way, that whole speech you gave before the kiss…you might get Shakespeare yet."

"Thanks." He gave her one of those big smiles that she silently admitted to herself she was starting to warm to.

"But that part about my lips, don't think I won't use that against you." She teased as she headed toward the door. "I should probably go now."

"Yeah." Brad nodded.

"See you at school, tomorrow." She put her boots and jacket on. He leaned forward and gave her a hug.

"See you tomorrow…" He left the sentence open ended until she closed the door behind her, "...Juliet."

0314 ZULU

RABB FOR SENATE HQ

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

All the focus was on the tight Presidential race. The Republican ticket of Senator Hewson and Governor Payne had a comfortable lead going into the first debate. Secretary Proper was the Democratic candidate for President and Vice President Turner was doing his second go around on the campaign bus as the Democratic Vice Presidential nominee. In the first debate, Hewson had gotten his clock thoroughly cleaned by Danny Proper. It had created a momentum shift that had caused the Republican ticket to stall at 51 percent and the Democrats moved up from 42 percent to 46 percent. After the second debate, the town hall, Democratic momentum continued bringing the race even closer; 51-48. The Vice Presidential debate was uneventful and Senator Hewson had been good enough in the foreign policy debate to stall the remaining Democratic momentum. But the last Gallup poll released before Election Day had the race tied, 49-49.

At the moment though, at Rabb for Senate Headquarters, the Presidential race was less important then the Senate race in Virginia for the people there. For Harm and Mac, it was less important then the Virginia, Pennsylvania and New Mexico races. There were three televisions in the room; one was tuned to CNN, one to MSNBC and the other one to FOXNEWS. "What do you think, Dusty?" Harm turned to his campaign manager.

"I think our exit polls have been good all day, but you never know what can happen at the last minute." Dusty answered. "Aside from our race, I think the Democrats will hold the House and the Senate. What happens in the Presidential race is anyone's guess at this point." He immediately shushed the room when MSNBC broke away from it's analytical round table to announce another result.

"NBC is now ready to project that the new Junior Senator from the State of Pennsylvania will be First Lady Nicole Ross." Chris Matthews announced on the television. There was a note of disappointment among the Republicans in the room but Harm was smiling. Nicole Ross was a good person with a fierce intellect, she was at least one Democrat he'd be able to work with in the Senate if he got elected tonight. He looked up at the vote percentages in Pennsylvania. Nicole had beaten her Republican challenger 59-40.

"Well, at least there's one result we were hoping for tonight." Mac put a hand on her husband's back. "Harm, you need to stay calm, the results will be coming in any minute now. One of two things is going to happen, either you're the new Senator from Virginia or you're right where you are right now."

"Thanks, Mac." Harm turned and kissed her lightly on the lips. "I don't think I could have done this without you."

"I know." She answered confidently and the two of them shared a laugh. "I always knew you were destined for great things. You married me, which was a pretty good start."

"Getting a little cocky there, Ninja-girl." Harm teased as the ticker on CNN flashed this time, indicating that they were ready to project another result.

"At this time, we at CNN are ready to project a victor in the Virginia Senate Race. With 33 percent of precincts reporting and with 54 percent of the vote, the Republican Admiral Harmon Rabb is the new Junior Senator from Virginia." There was raucous cheering and celebration in the room as the other networks followed up the CNN announcement.

A few hours passed. Harm delivered his victory speech to a cheering crowd across the street in the ballroom of the hotel. There still was no declared winner in the Presidential election. It was starting to look as though there wouldn't be until morning at least. There were ten battleground states. Eight had already been called tonight with Ohio, Nevada, Florida and Virginia going Republican; Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, New Mexico and Michigan had all gone for the Democrats. Only New Hampshire and Missouri remained. The Republicans had 268 Electoral votes; the Democrats had 255, which meant that both were short of the magical number of 270.

New Hampshire had just been called for the Democrats giving them 259 Electoral votes and suddenly, all eyes were on Missouri. Everyone who had anything to do with any campaign that Tuesday night was glued to the television set waiting for the last state to be called. When the icon came up on the screen that meant that another call was about to be made, it was as though America took a collective breath and waited for Chris Matthews of MSNBC to speak.

"In a big upset win for the Democrats tonight, former White House Chief of Staff Victor Galindez has beaten Senator Vince Rossi of New Mexico by a decent 52-48 margin. This means that the Democrats retain a 60-40 advantage in the Senate." Matthews turned to face the other analysts on the panel. "It's interesting isn't it? If Cal Hewson gets elected tonight, the American people will have elected a Republican President who will be forced to contend with an overwhelmingly Democratic Congress. He'll have to compromise and barter to pass everything for four years but if Danny Proper wins tonight, the American people will have given him a healthy Congressional majority."

"I'll tell you, Chris, I never thought we'd be sitting in a situation like this on Election Night." One of the panellists added. "What we…" He was cut off by Matthews.

"We're getting news from the MSNBC desk, with 77 percent of precincts reporting in, NBC is projecting that Missouri and its eleven electoral votes will go to Secretary Daniel Proper and the Democrats making him the forty-fifth President of the United States."


	80. The Rules of the Game

"_You have to learn __**the rules of the**__**game**__. And then you have to play better than anyone else.__" – Albert Einstein_

"Welcome back to high school hockey here on WCAR, I'm Jerry Doyle and with me in the booth here in John Cameron. Well John, I guess if you live to be a hundred you'll see just about everything and we've seen high school hockey in Northern Virginia sell out the rink tonight." The commentator turned toward his partner.

"Jerry you know that whenever Bishop O'Connell and Pope Paul play against one another in any sport, it's normally a heated and well attended encounter but that level of intensity had not extended to hockey until this season. These teams have played two spirited matches already this season and this one is shaping up in similar fashion." Cameron coughed a little. "The big story of this season for O'Connell though has been the play of their two youngsters: Ashby and Ross."

"Yeah, well there you've got the league's two top scorers, which is actually pretty remarkable considering they're freshmen playing Varsity hockey. Ross leads the league with fifty-three points in twenty-one games so far; Ashby's right behind him with forty-nine points in twenty-one games _and _they each have a goal in the first period of this game tonight." Doyle took a sip of his coffee. "Now, the two teams are lining up for the start of the second period. O'Connell comes out with their top line with Captain Brett Parker centering wingers Jeremy Sabyan and Max Berger."

The puck was dropped at centre ice to start the period. Parker lost the draw and the opposing team got the puck. The Pope Paul team was quick and they were in the O'Connell zone pressing for the tying goal in a 2-1 game. The O'Connell team was chasing the puck around their own zone. A Pope Paul defenseman blasted a shot from the point and Berger laid his body down in front of it to block it. The puck ricocheted off his shin guard down the ice. The Parker line got off the ice ass the Ross-Ashby-DiAngelo line jumped over the boards. The Pope Paul players crossed centre ice and they tried to fire a pass across to the right wing side that Peter Ashby intercepted.

"It's Ross and Ashby with only one defenseman standing between them and the Pope Paul goal." The commentator Doyle announced over the radio. "Ashby passes the puck to Ross who skates into the offensive zone. Ross slides the puck back to Ashby. Ashby fakes the shot and slides the puck back across to Ross; he shoots, he scores!"

Brad's stick went into the air as Ashby and DiAngelo skated over to congratulate him. For Brad, it was his twenty-fifth goal and fifty-fourth point of the season and there was still nineteen games left before the playoffs. The line skated back the bench as the PA announcer in the arena made the call for the scoring play. "Knights goal, his twenty-fifth of the season, scored by number seventy-nine Bradley Ross!"

Up in the stands, the gang found the game both entertaining and exasperating. "Does it have to be so fucking cold in here?" Arleigh complained while rubbing his hands together.

"They play the game on _ice_, numb-nuts." Jack retorted amusingly.

"I don't understand how they can skate that fast for sixty minutes." Jimmy shook his head. "I tried skating with Brad and Tim once and my legs hurt for like three days afterward."

"Well, every player doesn't skate for the full sixty minutes; only the goalie does. Your best two defensemen probably skate for thirty minutes of the game in one minute shifts they trade off with the other two defensive pairings. Brad's line of forwards probably only sees twenty minutes of ice time a game." Jack explained. "But they probably are still really sore after the game."

The remaining thirty-five minutes of playing time passed with O'Connell scoring two more goals to win the game 5-1. Brad added one more assist on a goal by line-mate Marc DiAngelo for a four point night. Brad came walking out of the arena with his hair sopping wet. "You know how I can tell you worked hard?" Sasha teased him.

"Because I put up four points in one game?" Brad asked with a yawn.

"No, because you stink to high heaven." Sasha commented, pinching her nose for effect.

"Hey, I got three nights of White House water pressure left and I'm not wasting it." Brad scratched the top of his sweat drenched head and then pushed the hair back out of his eyes. "Hard to believe we've gotta move in three days."

"Gonna be an easier job with most of Tim's crap already up in New Hampshire." Jack cackled as Brad threw his equipment bag in the trunk of the car. "Brad, how is it that our team has the league's two top scorers but we're still second to McNamara in the standings?"

"Because the league's top two scorers are only on the ice for us for twenty minutes every game. That means for forty minutes, the rest of the team is on the ice." Brad groaned as he put his stick in the trunk and slammed the trunk. Senator Rabb walked over to the gang from his car.

"Hey guys." He greeted the group. "Brad, I heard the game in the car on the way over. Good job."

"Thank you, sir." Brad nodded. "Sorry to drag Sasha out here, sir. Just helps to have my friends in the crowd."

"Not a problem, Brad. If you're going to put up four points a game, I'll buy seasons tickets." Harm laughed as he and Sasha headed back over to the car. "Arleigh, Jimmy, you two want a ride home?"

"Gee, thanks Mr. Rabb." The two boys answered as they hurried over to the Rabb car.

"They've abandoned us again, Pumba." Brad gave Jack a pat on the back and the two of them climbed into the car.

"Was that looks joke?" Jack asked.

"A smell joke actually." Brad chuckled to himself.

"Be nice to me or I won't tell you who was asking about you at the game." Jack taunted and Brad mimicked zipping his lips shut. "Audrey Williams."

"Audrey?" Brad's eyes nearly burst out of his head. "That girl's got more curves then a mountain highway."

1314 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

"Can you believe we're gonna be out of here in two days?" Morley crossed his arms as he stood with Charlie in the bullpen.

"Yeah, seems like it wasn't all that long ago that I was just walking through those doors, trying to find my office and being impossible with my receptionist." Charlie laughed as he looked around the office. "So, you looked at any of the job offers on your desk?"

"Yeah, I'm thinking of taking a professorship at the Kennedy School. It pays well, Boston's a nice town and it'll get me the hell away from Washington." Morley answered as he cracked his knuckles. "Twenty-three years working in this town in enough for me. What about you? You heading over to Senator Ross's office to work as her legislative assistant?"

"Actually, no." Charlie answered. "The First Lady picked up a staff with some real good chemistry during her campaign and Harriet Roberts knows how to crack the whip now, so I'm not needed there. I'll be working for Senator Galindez."

"With you _and_ Stacy, that place is going to start looking like this place did eight years ago." Morley laughed and gave Charlie a pat on the back.

"It'll miss your snickering sarcasm, buddy." Charlie nodded. "Met up with your counterpart from the incoming Proper administration?"

"Nah, you?" Morley inquired.

"Yeah, gave him a tour of the place and a rundown of his job yesterday." Charlie slumped on the edge of a desk. The two of them fell silent when a familiar face came walking over to them.

"Excuse me; I'm here for my liaison with the outgoing Communications Director." Kat announced with a broad smile.

"Danny Proper picked _you_ as his Communications Director?" Charlie sounded surprised.

"Why not? Six years here as the Deputy and I was the Director on the campaign trail, I was the most qualified person." Kat answered.

"Let me show you to your new office." Morley motioned for her to follow him to his office. Charlie stood in the middle of the bullpen looking around nostalgically. He'd spent the last eight years of his life in this building; almost literally the full eight years. Burning the midnight oil so often that it was starting to become the midday oil. He shook his head and took a deep breath.

"Morning, Charlie!" Mikey Roberts cheered on his way through the bullpen.

"Good morning, Commander Roberts." Charlie walked alongside the President's ball carrier and personal aide. "How goes the search for your next billet?"

"I've already been assigned to my next post effective Monday." Mikey answered. "Along with my promotion to Commander, I'll be the new aide to the National Security Advisor as well as watch commander in the Situation Room."

"So, you'll just move from one West Wing office to another? Not a bad gig if you can get it." Charlie laughed as they headed toward the Oval. "Any word on the new National Security Advisor?"

"Clayton Webb." Mikey shuffled a manila folder from one arm to the other.

"Really?" Charlie seemed shocked yet again. "Well, he _did_ spend eight years as CIA Director. I'm still having a little trouble seeing Mike Bradley as the new Secretary of State myself."

"Yeah, the President did a real double take when he heard that one." Mikey laughed. "So, when are you moving over to Senator Galindez's office?"

"2:00 pm on January 20th." Charlie was very direct. "I don't know why I stick around Washington any more, maybe I'm just a masochist."

"Aren't we all?" Mikey took a seat at his desk in the reception office outside the Oval.

"What about you though? Did I hear right, you're dating a congresswoman?" Charlie was grinning sarcastically from ear to ear.

"A second termer, the First Lady set us up." Mikey was smiling. "One of those feisty, sultry brunette types from New Jersey."

"There are so many _non-binding resolution_ jokes I could make right now, it's not even funny." Charlie laughed. "See you around?"

"Hey, ease up okay?" Mikey laughed as he leaned back in his desk and Charlie disappeared into the Oval office.

1640 ZULU

BISHOP DENIS J. O'CONNELL HIGH SCHOOL

ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

Brad was sitting in his U.S. Government class trying desperately not to fall asleep. His dad had been President for eight years, he knew all this crap. Not to mention that his mom was a Senator now, he had two ultimate tutors at home. Just then a note came sailing over his shoulder and landed on the desk in front of him. Brad looked around to see if anyone noticed before opening the note. _Wanna take me to lunch?_ The note asked and Brad laughed to himself. He scribbled on the piece of paper and handed it back to the girl behind him.

She opened the note and read his addition. _It's cafeteria food_, he wrote on the page. She giggled lightly and wrote down her own addition before handing the note back to him. He took the piece of paper between his index and middle fingers and drew it slowly into the palm of his hand and out of sight of the teacher. She only wrote the word _So?_ Brad laughed for a second, jotted down a few things and handed the note back to her. His note read: _Walk you to the caf?_ She looked up to find him looking over his shoulder and she nodded.

The two of them yawned their way through the last five minutes of class before getting up and sprinting for the door for lunch. "So, I hear you wanted to talk to me at the game yesterday?" Brad hesitantly started.

"I mostly wanted to know which one was you." Audrey explained. "I never realized hockey players moved so fast. I also didn't know how…big you were on skates."

"Just about 6'2" with my skates on." Brad smiled. The two of them walked toward the cafeteria. "I saw you at the football games a lot back in the fall but I don't recall seeing you at a lot of the hockey games up to this point."

"I think the same could be said for just about every new hockey fan in the conference." Audrey lightly nudged him on the shoulder.

"I _have_ noticed the crowds at the games are getting bigger." Brad held the door to the cafeteria open for her. "Just figured it was coincidence."

"Don't think you're giving yourself enough credit." Audrey commented as she and Brad each grabbed a lunch tray and stood in line. "Besides, I was hoping that if I asked about you, someone would explain the game to me."

"Well hell, I can do that." Brad chuckled and began to explain hockey to her as they worked their way toward the food. By the time they came out the other end of the cafeteria line, she understood most of the basic rules of the game but she still had some questions. They headed over to where Brad's usual gang of cohorts was sitting and picking at their food. "Audrey, this is my brother Jack."

"I know who he is." She commented and the gang laughed, Jack waved.

"And my cousin Arleigh." Brad pointed to his cousin who had a mouthful of chicken finger. Arleigh muffled a 'hello' through his food and waved.

"I know him too." Audrey provoked more laughter.

"That over there is Jimmy Roberts." Brad pointed to the other end of the table.

"Hi, Jimmy." Audrey smiled sweetly and waved to him.

"Afternoon." Jimmy nodded.

"And that's Peter Ashby." Brad pointed to the guy sitting between Sasha and Jimmy.

"How's it goin'?" Ashby gave a nod and a wave as he sipped at his orange juice.

"And of course, my partner in crime, Sasha Rabb." Brad motioned toward Sash.

"We've met, Brad." Sasha replied, trying not to roll her eyes at the interloper.

"Yeah, we've got chemistry together." Audrey intervened. Audrey and Brad took a seat at the table.

"Hey Brad, you see the paper this morning?" Arleigh asked as he produced a copy from his backpack. "They chose the teams for Sunday's Varsity Hockey All-Star game. Seven of our guys made the Virginia team."

"Who?" Brad asked a he took a drink of his milk.

"Trumbull and Jaworski the defensemen; Filatov our goalie; Parker our team captain; DiAngelo Ashby and you." Arleigh tossed the paper across the table to Brad. "The booster clubs for all the schools both in Maryland _and _Virginia sold out their ticket allotment, so they moved you guys into the Verizon Center."

"We're gonna play where the Capitals play?" Brad nearly choked on his drink.

"Not just that, Alexander Ovechkin is going to do the ceremonial puck drop and you've been named the Captain for Team Virginia." Arleigh grinned. "You're moving up in the world."

"Yeah." Brad seemed to go quiet. "Hell of a thing."

0105 ZULU

WHITE HOUSE

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The Farewell Address was going to be tough, but the President had to address the nation. It would be his last televised address and he would trumpet the state of the union after eight years of his administration. After which, he had called a special group of people into the office to say a round of tearful farewells. It wasn't going to be an easy night. There were some political speeches that he hated giving and some political speeches that he enjoyed giving. After eight years, countless crises, three presidential elections, two midterm cycles, a few major international crises and three Secretaries of Commerce, this was one speech he'd enjoy giving. If only because by next Monday, he'd be a normal civilian again and that was a prospect he was going to relish for a few weeks.

The President took his place behind the resolute desk and reviewed his remarks. It was a farewell speech but it read like a eulogy of his Presidency. A lot of Presidents used their farewell address to warn about some impending danger; like Eisenhower and the military-industrial complex or Washington and political parties. Right now, Nate Ross had to patch up the political wounds of a nation who had just elected an incoming President that lost the popular vote.

"Mr. President, you're on in five seconds, sir." The cameraman signalled and Nate nodded to him. The producer behind him counted down the seconds and motioned to the President.

"Good evening, my fellow Americans. I would like to start off tonight by thanking the television and radio stations which are carrying this address and I should like to thank you for the last eight years we have spent together. My fellow Americans, I address you as we near the eve of the inauguration of my successor. Over the last eight years, we have walked this road of life together, often hand in hand and I confess that more often then not I felt America carrying me rather I carrying it. In our eight years together, we have united as common Americans for great goals and as great Americans for common goals and I am confident that in the last eight years we have together forged the future of America.

Eight years ago, 1 in 6 children were born into poverty; today it's 1 in 11. Eight years ago, children were among the largest blocs of uninsured Americans when it came to healthcare at over ten million, we've worked to reduce that to zero. In the last eight years, university enrolment is up 27 percent and trade school enrolment is up 38 percent. We've created 8.4 million new jobs together, created four consecutive budget surpluses together and worked with Congress to enact a plan to, over the next decade, lower the debt from 7 trillion dollars to just under 5 trillion dollars.

Over this same period in time, America has reclaimed its place as the clarion voice of freedom in the world. Our higher ideals have prevailed time and again on the international stage, we were recognized by the world for forward thinking in the Middle East twice and we led the charge for basic human rights and basic human dignity in the pacific. There was no Cold War, no inflamed passions, we were Americans and to the world we fulfilled our role as Americans we led when our fellow man needed a leader. We were merciful because the call of justice need not always be answered with an iron hand because it can also be answered with a benevolent mercy. We did that together.

Here, we looked to the constitution to trumpet equal rights. We moved forward together, we left no man, woman or child behind. We no longer ostracized gays from our military services, effectively telling them that they were second class citizens. We moved toward equality. We had the first African American Vice President, the first Latino Chief of Staff and both the first African American woman on the Supreme Court and also the first woman Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. Together, we showed that America was no longer the providence of the select few but that the American Dream of our mothers and our forefathers, whether they came over on the Mayflower as Pilgrims or to Ellis Island as the dispossessed of the nineteenth century or as slaves before the end of the import of slaves, it's still alive and well and it lives within every last one of us.

I hope that we have healed the long rifts of our nation in these last eight years. I hope that together we have shown that public service is indeed a noble calling. That our partisan differences are so insignificant when we compare them to the fact in being Americans we have in common something much greater. I hope also that we have exhibited the need for more debate. We can never stop talking. That's when our nation is in danger. We can withstand every terrorist attack, every insult from an ally and every denouncement from an adversary and they cannot harm us if we stand together and we keep practising that which makes our nation strong. When we stop, when we stop debating and we stop discussing; when we stop being provocative and controversial; when we stop being that which makes us great, that is when the most clear and present danger will exist and it will come not from without but from within.

We are all American. We must never forget that. From that common root, the mighty oak of our democracy has grown and weathered the fiercest storms. As we approach this new horizon we stand together, never forgetting the debt that we owe to each other or the sacrifices that many among us have made in the name of our liberty.

If you would, would you all take a coin out and look at it now. On that coin, you will find the Latin phrase _E Pluribus Unum_, 'out of many, one'. When we originally adopted that phrase, it was in reference to thirteen colonies. Now, we apply it to our many religious backgrounds, our many ethnic and linguistic backgrounds because out of that multitude we are one. The threats of the future, no matter how great, cannot defeat that one.

In our eight years, we have stood shoulder to shoulder. Carried many burdens together, fought many battles. We have celebrated in victory and mourned our setbacks and we have done so as one nation, under God, with liberty and justice for all. My fellow Americans, good night and god bless." The President smiled fondly into the camera as the screen went to black.

Behind the camera crew a small crowd had gathered in the Oval office. As the President finished his speech and rose to his feet, the crowd began to clap. Nate looked up to see the round of applause being led by the Senate's three newest members, his wife, his former Chief of Staff and his former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Nate smiled as he moved around his desk. "It's good to know your new receptionists can all read." The President joked as he greeted the group.

"Well, being as you can only give orders for two more days, we figured it best not to test your powers." A.J. Chegwidden chortled and got laughs from the group.

"When I look around at all the faces in this room, I'm…" Nate sniffled, his eyes welled up. "I'm reminded of all the work we have accomplished here over the last eight years. I think of how history's going to remember each of us twenty, thirty, even fifty years from now and you know what?" He paused for a second to swallow a lump and a tear fell. "I think we've done a damn good job. And while I know that we'll all be at the inauguration in a few days but other then my wife, Mac, Sturgis and Bobbi, I don't expect that I'll see you. That's a damn shame, because without a lot of you, hell, without all of you, I think this building would have fallen apart years ago. I think we should say our goodbyes soon; we've all got different places to be in a few days." The President turned to deal with Kat first. "You sure saved my electoral butt a couple of times kiddo"

"You were an honour to save, Mr. President." Kat was choking back tears as she shook the President's hand; she turned and left the Oval office seconds later.

"We've worked together for about twenty years, haven't we? Gonna be hard not to see you at work in the morning." The President turned to speak with Morley next. The two men hugged.

"I'll call you up once in a while to keep you sharp, Mr. President." Morley said tearfully as he hugged his old friend. "I've uh, I've got some work to do, sir." The two of them stopped hugging and Morley ducked out of the office as well. The President took two steps to stand in front of Charlie.

"You, you started all this when you walked into my office at the State Department back in 2003; run for Governor, right? Since tomorrow's Saturday and the inauguration is Sunday, I guess I'll see you around, Charlie." The President gave him a pat on the shoulder and a handshake.

"So much you'll get sick of me, sir." Charlie was a little choked up himself as he left the Oval. Now, the President was speaking with A.J.

"AJ, see you at your birthday party next month?" Nate shook his hand. "Maybe a little golf this summer?"

"We'd better; I want to thank you for letting this old sailor serve his country one last time, sir." A.J. shook the President's hand hard. They exchanged mature nods and A.J. made his exit from the Oval office.

Next Nate moved over to speak with Sturgis and Bobbi. "Mr. Vice President, Madame Senator. I want to thank both of you for the last four years especially. Sturgis, you helped me see the world in a way I never would have experienced. I wish all people could go through what I did." Nate shook Sturgis' hand. "Make sure the new President does."

"I'll do that, sir." Sturgis laughed. "The opportunities we provided, the dream we all created together, sir, for all Americans, that won't ever be forgotten." The two of them exchanged a warm and hearty handshake along with a fraternal pat on the back. The next couple would be Gunny and Stacy of course.

"You two…" The President used his best fatherly tone. "The two of you got me in a lot of press trouble a few summers back." The two of them stared down at their feet, playing along with his joke.

"We challenged you, sir. You gave us something much more." Stacy wrapped her arms around Gunny's middle and perched her chin on his shoulder.

"Glad I could help." Nate chuckled. "Without the two of you, I am sure that I would have gone completely insane in the last eight years. I never could have gone through the first six years in this magnificent white prison but for you two some days."

"Sir, I have never said this to another human being, but you are one of those men who come along once in a very rare and special time and for all around him, burdens seem a little lighter and hope is restored to our once bleak future. The value of such men cannot be measured." Gunny took a deep breath.

"Thanks, Gunny that means a hell of a lot." The two men shared a quick hug before giving one another a pat on the shoulder. "Now, you two ought to get back home to that sweet little daughter of yours. I'm sure she's running the babysitter ragged."

"Yes, sir." The two of them nodded and headed for the door to the office.

"Well, Harm, you made it to the Senate." The President congratulated.

"Yeah, and you made it through eight years, sir." Harm gave the President's hand a shake.

"Harm, promise me that in forty-eight hours when I'm a regular person again, you'll call me Nate." The President laughed as the two men moved over toward the couches in the middle of the room. "You want a good scotch?"

"I'd love a good scotch." Harm chortled.

"I'll pour." Nate took the cap off a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black and poured a pair of glasses. "How are you finding the Senate life?"

"It's a bit of a slow drag on a decent cigar." Harm explained. "I think I like the barter and compromise of passing legislation, some of my Senate colleagues are pretty good folks and I've got a top flight staff."

"There are few better feelings in our line of work then knowing you're surrounded by competency. Trust me, you often won't be." Nate laughed as he took a seat. "There's an old story about the Senate. It says that you spend the first year wondering how the hell you got there and the next five wondering how the hell the other ninety-nine did."

"Discounting your wife and Gunny, it may be ninety-seven in my case, sir." Harm took a sip of his scotch. "Sir, are you really _that_ anxious to get out of here?"

"You have no idea, Harm." The President groaned. "The night after I get out of here, my son is playing in the Varsity Hockey All-Star game for the Washington Catholic Athletic Conference and I am _so_ looking forward to going to the game and sitting in the stands to watch my son."

"Makes you appreciate the little things, sir?" Harm questioned.

"You have no idea, my friend." Nate finished off his drink.

_The End_

_A/N: I sincerely hope that all those who have read and enjoyed but haven't reviewed before will review just for this last chapter and I look forward to my regular reviewers thoughts as well. The last part of the trilogy will come shortly. It'll deal with the kids as they try to decide what to do with their lives and as they face the challenges of becoming adults._


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